


Jealousy

by SPowell



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: "The Fix" and "Survival" related, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, first-time, re-post of re-worked piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Hutch and Starsky begin a new side to their relationship, an old face from Hutch's past makes an appearance.</p><p>**I have moved this from another website and re-worked it a bit. We all get a bit better as we write, so I just wanted to improve this before I put it up again.</p><p>Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to William Blinn and Spelling-Goldberg Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and I make no money from this endeavor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> episode references: "The Fix" and "Survival."

**Prologue**

 David Starsky’s hands clenched the wheel as he stepped on the gas, heedless that he was speeding on the dark stretch of road. The windows were down and the mild night air lifted the dark auburn curls from his head and dried the sweat from his body. He was charged, taking the hairpin turns along the beach road with precision, the Torino an extension of himself that did his bidding, his mind flying as the headlights swept first one way and then another, until he reached a pinnacle, slowed, and pulled off the road with a screech of tires and the sharp smell of burning rubber.

Stepping out of the car, he surveyed the wide, endless expanse of ocean and the fat, impossibly white moon that shone over it, casting ripples of light as far as the eye could see. Taking a deep breath of ocean air, he let it out slowly, only then allowing the tears to come, wetting his cheeks and salting his lips.

Tonight, everything had changed.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he covered his mouth to stop the sobs and leaned his head back, staring at the night sky, allowing the ocean breeze to dry his tears, searching for a sign. Anything that could let him know that the decision he’d made was as right as it felt, because everything he’d been raised to think and everything he’d professed to know in the past said that it was wrong.

Yet David knew that the one thing he could truthfully say was that nothing about his relationship with his partner from the day they’d met was bad or wrong. And the feelings he’d had this night felt very right.

He thought about the two women he’d known whom he’d professed to love: Terri and Rosey. He’d meant it when he’d said he loved them, and he didn’t doubt now that he had. Only, he realized that what he’d felt for them faded in the face of what he now knew. It was like calling the flame of a candle  _light_  and then being faced with the sun. His world had turned upside down this night, or his upside down world had righted itself---he wasn’t entirely sure which. All he knew was that a deep and abiding love that already gave him so much happiness had now opened like a flower and expanded, encompassing every aspect of his life, making him want to shout his feelings to the world.

The very magnitude of his emotions had sent him flying up Pacific Coast Highway in the Torino after leaving his sleeping blond lover in bed. His gorgeous blond partner, that is. He would never have stolen away like a thief from one of his female lovers---but the very fact that this was Hutch allowed Starsky to do so. Hutch would understand, of this he was confident, the same as he was confident that the sun would rise in the morning and the moon again that night. No uncertainties there, so why be uncertain of taking this step? Hadn’t it happened as naturally as taking his next breath? One minute they were playing an innocent board game, and the next they were in bed, and a fire had flared to life under Starsky that he recognized immediately to be an eternal flame.

From that moment on, every touch was a benediction, every whispered word a prayer, and their coming together the holy hallelujah chorus sung by a heavenly choir.

Starsky was still shaken by the potent emotion of the experience. He was a shattered man---blown to bits and made whole again---a mere hull of what he once was, because Hutch had taken him, withdrawing his very life essence and molding it to his own, and Starsky knew that the rest of his life would be spent never quite being whole without Hutch at his side.

Their extraordinary connection was complete.

 

**Chapter One**

 

3 weeks later

“That was the most  _unhelpful_  witness I’ve ever come across,” Starsky griped as he sauntered to the Torino and flung open the door. “And I’ve come across quite a few.” The relentless LA sun beat down on the car, causing the interior to feel something akin to a tin can sauna. Starsky quickly started the engine and turned on the air.

“Could it have been because you were so grouchy with him?” Hutch asked, ducking into the passenger seat and running a hand through his sweaty blond hair.

“I got a right to be grouchy when it’s this damn hot,” Starsky informed him. A long trickle of sweat made its way down the side of his face and he wiped it away crossly.

Hutch closed the passenger side door, and Starsky pulled away from the curb, heading toward the precinct, flipping the air vents to high.

Checking his watch and giving his partner a sidelong glance, he said, “You know, that took a lot less time than we figured, since the old man wouldn’t tell us nothin’. We could call in a Code 7 and make a pit stop.”

“You couldn’t possibly be hungry after that breakfast this morning-- I know I’m stuffed!” Hutch exclaimed, aghast at his partner’s unlimited stomach capacity, especially when it came to rich food. “And I’m not eating at that Mexican place again. I had heartburn for a week.”

“Who says I’m hungry for food?” Starsky grinned, his eyebrows wiggling. “And the sun’s not the only thing makin’ me hot.” Their eyes met, and Hutch snapped up the mic.

“This is Zebra 3 calling in a Code 7.”

Starsky grinned wolfishly, took a screeching left, and headed for a secluded, shady road in a deserted part of town.

 

**One hour later**

“I think we ruined the shocks,” Starsky said, following Hutch into the precinct. “I’ll have to have Merle look at them, and he’s gonna charge me a fortune.”

“Whose fault is that?” Hutch asked, jogging up the stairs and turning into the hallway. “You were the one who suggested doing it in the Soup Can. I was thinking more along the lines of my apartment.”

“Fantasy of mine,” Starsky admitted casually.

Hutch stopped and looked back at him. “Since when?”

Starsky shrugged. Lowering his voice, he said, “Since I started spending every waking hour thinking about getting in your pants.”

Hutch lifted a brow. “And how long has that been?”

“Since the fifth of forever, I guess. Just didn’t realize that’s what that particular itch meant.”

Hutch opened his mouth to inquire further, but the sight of Babcock coming off the elevator effectively silenced him.

He turned to go into the squad room, and Starsky continued on to bookkeeping, intent on needling Georgia into telling him just exactly why the dinner at Roy’s Steak House last week where they’d shaken down their snitch couldn’t be considered a paid expense.

\---

Hutch silently cursed Babcock’s appearance. He really wanted to know if Starsky had been having these feelings for him for a long time, or if the whole thing had broadsided him like it had Hutch.

Lord knows they’d always been the macho cops of the precinct, bedding more women than they could count. It was the sole reason they’d always gotten away with their open affection for one another.

All he knew was that three weeks ago on a bright and sunny Saturday morning, he’d awakened with the biggest smile on his face that he’d had in a long, long time. And an hour later his new lover had returned with a bag of fresh bagels and cream cheese, his hair windblown and his face as joyful as his own.

Hutch had been standing at the kitchen counter making coffee, and he’d turned to meet him. No awkwardness, no embarrassed avoidance. In one swift move, Starsky had set the bag on the table and come toward him, encircling Hutch’s naked waist just above his pajama bottoms, and lovingly, softly, oh-so-sweetly kissed his mouth.

“Good morning,” Starsky had said, smiling. And Hutch had melted.

Hutch’s knees felt weak at the memory, reliving those moments when he’d felt newborn, feeling the novelty of his partner’s lips on his, his tongue sliding, hot, against his own. And then the next moment when Starsky’s fingers had reached out to comb his face, touching eyebrows, cheekbones, nose, lips, chin, before he took Hutch’s mouth again in a scorching, open-mouthed kiss, pulling away, head tilting, kissing Hutch again and again, licking, lapping, nibbling…until Hutch was aflame with desire and weak in the knees.

At the sound of someone clearing her throat, Hutch snapped out of the sexual fog and realized he wasn’t alone in the squad room. His eyes focused, recognized, widened.

“Jeannie.”

She smiled, looking at him with yearning, cornflower blue eyes that immediately jogged Hutch’s brain of every memory of their time together almost a year ago.

“Hutch…” she whispered. “Oh, Hutch!” She went to him, movements fluid, putting her arms around his neck, clinging to him in a way that oddly brought to his mind the vines that used to insinuate themselves into his mother’s azaleas. Slowly, he brought his hands up to her back and pressed them there. He was stunned. He could smell her perfume…lilacs…clinging to her long, blond hair. She felt achingly familiar in his arms, yet not quite right.

She had once meant so much to him. He’d felt so responsible for her safety. She’d fed every intuition he’d ever had to protect and shelter. Hutch knew his partner blamed her for getting Hutch kidnapped by Ben Forest, who had him shot up with heroin in an attempt to find out where Jeannie was hidden. But Hutch had never blamed her, he’d just felt she’d been a victim of circumstance—unlucky to have crossed Forest’s path and become the object of his obsession.

Gently pushing her away, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you so much! I just couldn’t stay away any longer. I’d felt so responsible for what had happened to you, but Hutch…I had to see you again!”

“Jeannie…I thought we’d agreed to end it,” Hutch took a step back, and Jeannie’s hands fell to her sides, fluttering like butterflies, graceful and fragile in their decent.

“I know, I know. I felt so guilty about what happened to you because of me. Hutch…can we go somewhere and talk? Please?” Her eyes pleaded with him, and he felt helpless to refuse her.

He looked at his watch.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Let me just leave a note for Starsky.” Grabbing a pen, he scribbled something down and put it on his partner’s desk. He got his jacket off the back of his chair and led Jeannie out.

Starsky hummed as he walked back to the squad room, cocky that he’d managed to coerce Georgia into seeing things his way.  _Nothin’ wrong with a little flirting_ , he told himself.  _Long as I save the best of me for Hutch._  They actually hadn’t discussed women, other men, or anything in particular since they’d started this thing between them. Starsky figured it was because any time they got alone together, all they wanted to do was touch each other. But he found himself really wanting to discuss those things. What they had together meant so much to Starsky, he just wanted to make sure they were on the same wavelength. He wanted Hutch to know what he felt…that this wasn’t some kind of weird sex play that he’d decided to add to their friendship. This was it. The real deal. Physically expressing his love for his partner was the purest and most wonderful thing in his life.

Not finding Hutch at his desk, Starsky strolled over to his own and sat down. On top of the stack of folders he’d been avoiding lately was a piece of paper with his partner’s writing on it. He picked it up.

_Had to run an errand. Meet you at my place in a couple of hours. Please sign the report and leave it in Dobey’s box._

Wondering what kind of errand he’d had to run, Starsky took the report, scribbled his name at the bottom under Hutch’s, and strode over to Dobey’s door, stuffing it in the box. He decided to go on home and shower before heading to Hutch’s apartment.

 

At the small diner on 12th Street, Hutch ordered a salad and a glass of water. “Jeannie?” he asked.

“Oh, um, just a Tab, please,” she said, her eyes never leaving Hutch’s face.  _He’s even more handsome now, if that’s possible,_ she thought.  _I should never have left him. We were so perfect together._ Remembering their nights of hot, sweaty lovemaking, shewet her lips and put her hand out to take his across the table.

“Hutch, remember all the good times we had together?”

“That was a long time ago.” Hutch’s voice was as deep and silky as Jeannie remembered, the sound of it never failing to soak her panties. Her body ached with the need to have him back again, the yearning only intensifying now that she had him in her presence.

Determination welled up inside of her. She’d learned a lot in the past year.

Hutch regarded Jeannie as he sat across from her, his fingers unconsciously toying with a napkin. The sun shone through the diner’s glass window onto her corn silk hair, and she looked a bit like an angel. Her pretty pink mouth trembled a little as she spoke, and she reached out to grasp his hand.

“Oh, Hutch…I made a mistake. I thought you would be better off without me, but now I know what we had together was something so very special.”

Hutch watched her face, remembering. He could separate her from the horrible ordeal he went through with Monk and his goons; that wasn’t it. He just couldn’t manage to dredge up any feelings for her at all. Gently, he disentangled his hand from her grip. “Jeannie, I meant what I said when I told you if we were going to end it, we needed to really end it. I thought you meant it, too.”

“But…it’s been a year!” Jeannie looked confused, as though all those months could be swept under the rug and forgotten. “We can try again!”

The waitress set the salad and drinks on the table, and Hutch waited until she was gone to reply.

“There’s someone else in my life now, Jeannie. Someone I love very much.” He looked at her steadily, wanting her to know that he was telling her the truth. There was no chance for them to reunite.  _God, I really am in love with my partner,_  he realized, suddenly warm with the feeling.

Jeannie’s bottom lip trembled. She shook her head. “I don’t believe you!”

Hutch sighed and began to eat his salad. He’d once thought Jeannie’s little girl looks and plaintive voice so appealing, but now she just seemed shallow and immature. He had changed so much over the past year, and she hadn’t changed at all. He found himself regretting coming here with her, and looking forward to the end of it, his mind already moving forward to when he’d see Starsky again.

“Hutch, I don’t think it’s fair of you to blow me off like this without giving us a chance,” Jeannie stated softly, crossing her arms over her chest and her lips turning down. “You aren’t thinking things through. We were so happy…”

Hutch just shook his head, thinking how womanly wiles could be so annoying. You wouldn’t catch Starsky pouting. Well, not often.

“Please…”

Hutch had had enough. He wanted to leave, and he didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. He didn’t owe this girl anything, not after what he’d been through because of her. Putting his fork down, he met Jeannie’s gaze, blue eyes steely. “Hear me…I meant what I said. There is no chance for us. Period. It was nice seeing you again, Jeannie. Take care of yourself.” Taking some money out of his wallet, he tossed it on the table.

He stood and strode out of the restaurant without looking back.

Jeannie watched him go, the difference between this goodbye and that of a year ago not lost on her. She was astounded that he could leave her this way. He used to care about her so much---she’d seen it in his eyes every time he’d looked at her.

And they’d looked so good together! When they’d walk into a room, every eye would turn and people would whisper about the two beautiful blondes. He’d risked his life to save her, for Christ’s sake! Forest had Monk shoot Hutch up with horse trying to get him to talk! How could he look at her now like she was nothing to him? And who was this bitch in his life that he was so in love with?

Jeannie fumed. Men fought over her, died for her, but they never  _ever_  left her! For so long she had gone to bed thinking about Hutch only to dream of him and wake up with his face still on her mind and her body aching for his touch.

She was going to win him back.

~~~

Hutch stopped at the store for milk and eggs before heading home. When he got to his apartment, he quickly stripped off his clothes and jumped into the shower. He hoped Starsky had gotten his note and hadn’t just pushed the junk on his desk aside to prop up his feet and read a comic book. That would be just like his partner, Hutch thought with affectionate annoyance.

It made him chuckle to think he had just brushed off a beautiful woman he used to be crazy about for his crude, messy, hairy, partner, but it was true. Starsky turned him on hotter and faster than any woman he’d ever known, and the intensity just seemed to ratchet up every time they were together.

Added to that, Starsky was more than just his irrepressible, irritating, cocky, street-wise, tough, curious, understanding, bewitchingly sexy, irreplaceable, lovable best friend. He was also the man he was in love with. And Hutch was happier than he’d ever been in his life.

Rinsing, he shut off the shower, grabbed a towel off the rack, and padded into the living room, rubbing the water out of his hair.

Suddenly, something large and fast barreled across the room, colliding into Hutch, sending him flying onto the couch, pinned by the weight of a man very intent on his purpose, which evidently was to kiss Hutch’s neck until he either gave into him or gave up the ghost, one.

“Starsky, you scared the shit out of me!” Hutch gasped, pushing him away and rising to a sitting position, hand on his heart.

“Sorry, buddy,” Starsky disengaged from his neck and ruffled his blond locks, grinning mischievously. “Got carried away there when I saw you strolling around buck naked.” He slid forward, and began planting kisses on Hutch’s bare shoulder, running his lips over the skin and dotting it now and then with his tongue. In spite of himself, Hutch went boneless, all of his surprise and annoyance melting away in the face of Starsky’s single-minded ardor.

“So what was the errand you had to run?” Starsky purred like a finely-tuned engine as his lips made their way up Hutch’s neck to the rim of his ear, where his tongue sought entrance, and darted in and out.

Hutch’s breathing accelerated noticeably. “Nothing important,” he answered, turning to meet the questing mouth with his own, his arms winding around Starsky and his hands wrapping themselves in his soft, curly hair.

Many moments later, Starsky seemed to remember something he wanted to say, and pulled back, trying to catch his breath and look Hutch in the eyes, but Hutch wasn’t having it.

“Hutch, we need to talk about something,” Starsky groaned as his lover’s mouth made his way down, down, down, questing fingers unbuttoning and unsnapping his clothing along the way.

“Hey, you lit this fire, buddy,” Hutch breathed before his mouth became too busy to form words.

Starsky parted his lips to speak, but all that came out was a groan of surrender, and Hutch smiled.

oooooooOOOooooooo

Jeannie parked a block away from Venice Place, the location of which she was able to obtain from a meter maid before she’d even gone into Metro that day. She was a little disappointed that Hutch had given up the cottage where they had spent many a lust-laden night in his bed. The palpable memories would have served her well when she began part two of the plan she’d been devising since the moment she realized Hutch wasn’t going to simply fall back into her arms. But first she had to deal with part one—finding out who the girlfriend was, and getting her out of Hutch’s life.

Something Hutch didn’t know about Jeannie was that she was really rather competitive. If she had a friend who liked a guy, she found herself wanting him; she simply couldn’t help it. But those feelings lasted only until she got the guy, and then Jeannie found her interest waning. Jeannie had lost a lot of friends that way, but she’d never needed a lot of friends in her life.

The first time she had ever seen Hutch, she’d had to have him. He was the perfect accessory, complementing her like a dress or bracelet would, and he was a gentlemen and a wonderful lover. The few girls she knew were so jealous, and things were perfect before Ben Forest had re-entered her life. She had to admit, it was kind of exciting having powerful Ben Forest still interested in her, as scary as the man was. It gave her a thrill even as it terrified her. Hutch had protected her then. He’d hidden her away, and she wouldn’t even allow him to tell his partner where. It was their little hideaway. Of course, she’d never expected Ben to have Hutch kidnapped or to addict him to heroin.

If Jeannie were honest with herself, she also hadn’t really expected Hutch to go along with her when she’d told him she was leaving town after it was all over. She had thought he’d beg her to stay. Instead he’d agreed that they would end it. Still, she’d held out hope the last year that he’d been pining for her. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” and all that. Instead it seemed it was more like “out of sight, out of mind.” That was unacceptable. She wanted what they had back—those days when Hutch would do anything for her.

The past twelve months had been awful. Jeannie had worked all kinds of menial jobs, worse even than waitressing at Huggy’s had been. And the few men she’d been with hadn’t held a candle to the cop with the heart of gold and the cock of steel.

For the expedition to Hutch’s apartment, she’d changed into all black, hiding her golden blond hair under a hat. Having scoped out the place earlier, she’d found a telephone cubby just inside the door of Hutch’s building, around the corner from the restaurant housed there. She planned to come and hide for as many nights as she needed to in order to find out Hutch’s girlfriend’s identity. Once she’d obtained that, she’d figure out some way to pull them apart. Then Hutch would be all hers again.

Several hours went by, with Jeannie growing more bored by the minute. It was a quiet neighborhood with only the goings-on in the restaurant to liven things up. All remained quiet upstairs, and Jeannie began to wonder if the big clunker of a car outside didn’t necessarily mean Hutch was at home. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she heard a door open upstairs. Hurrying to the base of the stairwell, she moved into the shadows and looked upward, hoping the noise she’d heard had come from Hutch’s apartment.

It had, and she was rewarded for her long wait when she caught a glimpse of Hutch by his door, his soft voice faintly audible from her hiding place below. She ducked farther into the shadows, waiting. A moment later, the quick thump of feet signaled someone on the stairs. Peeking around the corner, her heart fell when she recognized Starsky, Hutch’s partner.  _Damn!_  She thought, realizing Hutch hadn’t been entertaining his girlfriend after all.  _Now I’ll have to come back tomorrow night._

Starsky was half-way down the stairs, and Jeannie was shrinking farther back into the shadows, when she heard Hutch’s voice. “Starsk, wait!” The footsteps halted, and others descended from above. Eager to catch another glimpse of Hutch, Jeannie cautiously peeked around the corner again.

“Forgot to give you this,” Hutch said when he’d reached his partner. He looked around, as if to see if anyone was watching, and then he grabbed Starsky up in a passionate kiss—bodies pressed together, arms around one another, lips moving and mouths open.

Jeannie was so surprised, she gasped, and for a moment was afraid they’d heard, because they came apart quickly. But then Hutch told his partner not to forget the beer and he’d see him shortly, and ran back up the stairs, Starsky finished his descent, a crooked smile on his face just visible to her before he exited the building, and Jeannie could almost believe she’d imagined it all.

Jeannie stood, stunned and unable to move.  _Hutch is gay? No!_ But she’d just seen it with her own eyes! She remembered their many nights of lovemaking a year ago, and measured that with what she’d just witnessed.  _So he’s bi-sexual, I guess._ Her heart pounded. The sexual revolution was on, and Jeannie was no stranger to it. She’d spent many nights in the arms of women and men both, sometimes simultaneously.  Even given this new information, she still wanted Hutch. He was the most perfect man she had ever known, and they were made for one another.

_The question was…how to get him out of this relationship with his partner?_

She left, pondering on what their weaknesses might be and what she might be able to use against them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jeannie set the tall scotch in front of the drunk and slid into the booth seat in front of him.

Mickey’s eyes bulged at the amount of liquor in the glass.

“Go ahead…” Jeannie urged, “Drink up!”

Shaking, Mickey grasped the glass with both hands and brought it to his mouth, scotch dribbling all over his trembling fingers, his eyes rolling as he took a large gulp of the heady elixir. “G-good. So good,” he sighed. Rattling the glass as he set it down, he eagerly sucked the brandy off his hand where it had spilled.

“Well there’s more where that came from,” Jeannie promised. “Here’s what I need you to do…”

~~~

As the alarm clock clanged its way across the bedside table, Hutch’s arm came out and tried to pin it down with a questing hand.

“God, is it mornin’ already?” Starsky asked from under the pillow. He wiggled his enticing rear closer to Hutch’s groin, and Hutch jerked in response, knocking the clock off the table and effectively silencing it.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” he murmured into Starsky’s shoulder, placing little nips at the base of his neck. “Time to go get the bad guys.”

“Mmmm…can’t we let the bad guys take care of themselves for one day?” Starsky muttered, his head still hidden.

Chuckling, Hutch yanked the pillow away, pulled him closer, and ran his tongue along the rim of Starsky’s ear before getting out of bed and heading for the shower.

“Hey!” Starsky complained, rolling over. “Don’t be starting something you can’t finish!” He slid off the mattress and followed his partner to join him under the hat spray.

They were forty-five minutes late to work.

~~~

“Starsky! Hutchinson!” Dobey yelled as soon as they’d seated themselves at their desks and got comfortable enough to think perhaps their captain hadn’t noticed their tardiness.

Meeting each other’s eyes, the partners rose and entered Dobey’s office.

“Close the door,” Dobey barked. Hutch did, and the two sat down. Hutch didn’t have much doubt that their captain was angry about them being late, but always in the back of his mind was the fear that their superior had found them out. They’d been so damned careful not to show their feelings in public, but could Dobey have noticed?

Dobey got straight to the point. “This is the fourth time in three weeks you two have been late! And I’m not talking about five minutes.”

“We’re sorry, Cap’n,” Starsky said sincerely, gearing up the old charm, Hutch could tell. Hutch tried not to think about the hot interlude in the shower that had put them so behind that morning; throwing a rod in front of Dobey was out of the question.

“Hold on, I’m not through!” Dobey growled, jowls shaking. His voice softened perceptibly. “Now, it hasn’t passed my notice that something’s changed between the two of you.”

Hutch’s gut constricted, and he started to sweat under his arms. This was just what he’d been afraid of. If their captain found out what was going on between them, there was no doubt that he would separate them. Their partnership was at stake. And if Starsky had to choose between their partnership and this new thing between them…

Starsky winced inwardly and made a concerted effort not to look at his partner. Hutch had been obsessing over this very occurrence, and Starsky had assured him over and over again that there was no way their superior could possibly figure out that their relationship had changed. His mouth went dry.  _Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell._

Dobey leaned forward in his seat, noticing that Hutch looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and Starsky like the effects of a bad burrito were just catching up with him. “Partnership is like a marriage,” he intoned. “It has its ups and downs.” He pinned them with his gaze. Hutch seemed to look even more uncomfortable, and a single drop of sweat began to make its way down Starsky’s face. “You two have not had your usual connection lately, and I want to know why!”

Hutch’s eyes widened. Now  _this_  was not what he’d expected! He risked a look at his partner, who had shifted in his seat and seemed determined not to look his way.

“W-what do you mean, Cap’n?” Hutch finally took the initiative and asked, since Starsky obviously wasn’t going to do it.

Dobey shook his head impatiently. “I’ve known you two for a long time, and not a day goes by when you don’t touch each other in some way. You’ve always had a close connection, and everybody knows it. At least, that’s the way it  _used_ to be! For the last few weeks, I never see you without more than three feet between you, and you act like a hand on the other one’s shoulder would fry you on the spot. Now I want to know what’s going on!” The last part was barked at high volume.

Hutch couldn’t believe it. In their quest to make sure no one detected how very much they wanted to touch one another, he and his partner had taken it too far in the other direction and made their captain think there was a rift between them. Talk about irony!

“Er, well, I…” he glanced at Starsky again. “Starsk?” he pleaded, not knowing what the hell to say.

Starsky shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Cap’n…uh, Hutch and I, uh,…”

“That’s enough!” Dobey slammed his hand down on the desk, causing both of his detectives to jump in their seats. They certainly were jittery, he noted. “Something’s off between you two! You don’t touch, you’re late all the time...maybe you subconsciously want to make the other angry, I don’t know! I’m not the fucking precinct psychologist!” He pointed a chubby finger at the two of them. “But that’s exactly who you’re gonna see, if you don’t work this out! Now, I don’t want partners on the street with this kind of shit between them! That’s how officers get killed! So take a four day weekend and you better come back completely in sync! Dismissed!”

Starsky and Hutch glanced at each other, jumped up, and fled the office.

“What the hell?” Starsky asked when they were back at their desks. “He gave us a long weekend? ‘Cause he thinks we’re mad at each other?” The ringing phones and loud talking of the other detectives in the squad room covered their conversation, and Hutch shook his head in wonder, saying, “When he started talking, I really thought he knew. I thought we were goners.”

“Me, too. What’re we gonna do?”

Hutch grinned. “Well, I guess take our long weekend and work on our relationship!”

Slowly, a smile spread onto Starsky’s face. “It might not be easy to convince me to forgive you, partner. But you can try.” He grabbed his jacket. “I gotta go to the john. Meet you at the car!”

Hutch chuckled and watched him saunter out, irrepressible ass twitching. As he stood and put his own jacket on, his phone rang and he snatched it up.

“Hutchinson.”

“Hutch, uh, hey, this is Mickey.” The tentative voice said on the other line.

“Hey, Mickey, whatcha got?” Hutch held the phone to his shoulder with his cheek while he locked his files in the drawer.

“You know that guy you been askin’ me about? Castillo?”

“Sure, the one with ties to the loan shark. You come up with something?”

“I think so. But I wanna see you in person. Can you meet me at Bernie’s? Around three? And don’t bring that partner of yours. He makes me nervous.”

Hutch grinned. Mickey hadn’t been comfortable around Starsky since he’d caved and helped Monk get Hutch into a precarious position after the heroin ordeal. Hutch, however, wasn’t ready to give up a good snitch. Mickey could be bought for a tumbler of whiskey, and that worked in his favor most of the time.

“O’kay, Mickey. I’ll be there,” he promised, and hung up the phone.

\---

Mickey turned to Jeannie and gave her the thumbs up. She handed him a hundred dollar bill. “Just don’t get plastered before you do what I told you,” she directed, and left the diner, hips swaying.

\----

“I’ve been thinking,” Hutch began on their way home from the grocery store later that day.

“Uh, oh,” Starsky murmured.

”What?” Hutch asked, glancing at him.

“Nothin’.”

“That was too close with Dobey this morning,” Hutch continued. “He knows something’s up, and we have to be more careful than ever.”

“Isn’t that how we got into this mess in the first place?” Starsky reminded him. “We’ve been so careful, Dobey thinks something’s wrong between us.”

“Well, being late to work isn’t helping,” Hutch muttered. “I think we should stop spending the night together.”

Starsky almost braked the car in the middle of downtown LA. Glancing quickly at Hutch, he said, “Is that what you want?”

Hutch looked out the window. “We could spend weekends together. We’re just not doing a good job of getting ready in the mornings, that’s all. And Starsk---we agreed when we started this that our partnership is the most important thing.”

Starsky chewed on his bottom lip, but didn’t say anything. Given his druthers, he’d spend all night, every night with Hutch. But he didn’t want to push his partner to do something he didn’t want to do. This was all so new to both of them. “Whatever you think,” he finally said.

Hutch didn’t look so happy to have Starsky’s agreement, Starsky thought, turning onto Hutch’s street.

He pulled to the curb in front of Hutch’s building.

Hutch turned to his partner. He was going to have to meet Mickey, but he didn’t want Starsky to know that. Mickey wasn’t going to talk in front of Starsky, and Starsky wasn’t going to let Hutch see Mickey alone. Hutch had no choice but to lie by omission. He didn’t like to do it, but sometimes it was necessary. He’d explain it to Starsky later.

“Starsk…I have to be somewhere in a little while. Why don’t you come by at six? We can have dinner.” He climbed out of the car before his partner could question him. “See you then.” He waved and disappeared through the front door.

Starsky drove home, trying not to feel slighted by Hutch’s choice not to spend weeknights together and the fact that he hadn’t even kissed him goodbye. He usually did, after making sure it was all clear. Just another sign that the meeting with Dobey had rattled him. It didn’t escape Starsky that his partner had only become this rattled after his worry-wart mind started chewing on the matter. Sometimes he thought Hutch did way too much thinking and not enough going with his feelings. In fact, it still surprised him that Hutch hadn’t bolted after their first experience. But Starsky couldn’t argue that he was only worrying about what they’d agreed was important in the first place---preserving their partnership. It was obvious that waking up together, even after a night of incredible sex, was a temptation too big to resist most mornings, and that was getting them into trouble. So Hutch could have his way, for now, but Starsky wasn’t making any promises.

Once at home, Starsky showered and separated laundry. Then he cleaned out his refrigerator, which wasn’t difficult since there was hardly anything in it. He smiled when he caught sight of the wheat germ and goat cheese, just happy that Hutch had left a piece of himself there, no matter how revolting.

An hour or so later, contentedly ensconced on his sofa with a beer and the newspaper, Starsky was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“That couldn’t be Hutch,” he said to himself, tossing the paper onto the table and going to the door. His mind wandered over possibilities, some of them women he’d been involved with previously. It had been difficult coming up with ways to head them off---only one of the problems that had presented itself since he and Hutch had become lovers.

Opening it, he certainly didn’t expect to find one of Hutch’s ex’s standing there. Particularly this one.

“Hello, Starsky, do you remember me?”

“Jeannie Walton,” Starsky said, his mouth hanging open. He snapped it shut a second later and motioned for her to come in.

She was as pretty as he remembered her, tall, blond, and blue-eyed. Her dress, a soft pink that brought out the tan of her skin, accentuated her slim curves and was so short it left little to the imagination. He had never cared much for this particular ex-girlfriend of Hutch’s, mainly because she’d caused him so much physical trauma. He wondered what the hell she was doing back in town.

Jeannie walked over to a chair and took a seat. “I hope you’ll forgive me for coming over unannounced like this.” Her expression was troubled.

“No problem,” Starsky finally managed to say, and shut the door. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, no. Don’t bother.”

Starsky was a little surprised that Jeannie would remember where he lived. He also couldn’t come up with one reason she’d want to see him. They hadn’t exactly known each other well before. “Okay, well…does Hutch know you’re in town?”

Jeannie blinked a few times. “Yes. He hasn’t mentioned it?”

“No.” Starsky walked slowly to the sofa and sat down.  _Hutch knew, but hadn’t mentioned it. What did that mean?_  “How long have you been here, exactly?”

“Oh---Not long.” She looked down at her lap.

Starsky was getting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Edgy, he forced himself to remain still. Hutch had really cared for this woman at one time. He’d risked his life for her, and it had been really difficult for him to let her go. Starsky could be pleasant to her if he had to, no matter that her presence in Hutch’s life had ended up causing him pain.

Jeannie looked up at him, sincerity in the deep blue of her eyes.

“May I call you by your first name? I feel silly calling you Starsky.”

“Sure.”

Jeannie blinked. “What is it?”

“Dave.” Great, he was so important to Hutch, Hutch had never even mentioned his first name.  _You’re being unfair,_ a voice in his head told him.  _She may have known it once, but why would she remember?_ Evidently, she remembered where I live! He answered the voice churlishly.

Jeannie smiled. “Dave. Um, well, Hutch has told me about the two of you.”

A jolt shot through Starsky’s system that almost took him out of his seat.  _Wait, you don’t know what she means by that. There’s no way Hutch would’ve told her about your romantic relationship._ He relaxed into the chair and raised his brows in question.

“Your relationship,” she clarified. When he just stared at her, she added, “your sexual relationship.”

Starsky’s heart seemed to stop. He couldn’t comprehend that Hutch would tell this girl, _this girl_ who had been the reason he was almost killed last year, about their private relationship. The private relationship that could cost them their jobs! His nerves tingled with agitation and a terrible sense of betrayal began to rise in his gut. His instincts told him to deny it, but he knew his eyes had already given him away.

Jeannie looked at him sympathetically. “I know…please don’t blame Hutch. He didn’t want to tell me. I just knew something was really bothering him---it’s my fault. I kept at him until he confessed. Don’t worry, Dave, I would never tell a soul. You have my word.”

 _Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better!_ Starsky thought sarcastically, but held his tongue. Angering her wouldn’t do him any good. He fought the urge to jump up and dial Hutch’s number, ask him what the hell was going on. Instead, he just fixed his steely blue gaze on her and waited, his face washed of all expression.

“That’s why I’m here,” Jeannie continued, oblivious to the cracking in Starsky’s control. “See,” she leaned forward, eyes soft, “I want so much to have another chance with Hutch. I know I blew it with him before, but I’ve spent this last year changing my life. I can feel that we still have something between us, but his loyalty to you won’t allow him to see where it can go.”

Starsky’s gaze was unwavering. “What are you tryin’ to say, Jeannie? Spit it out.”

“I’m just asking you to give Hutch the chance to have everything I know he once wanted. A wife, a family. Don’t you want that for him?”

Starsky’s gut clenched into a tight ball. “I want him to be happy,” he said gruffly. “But he would tell me if he wanted those things.”

“Would he? He wouldn’t hurt you. You know Hutch—better than anyone. You know how he worries. The subterfuge, the danger to your partnership—these are just two things that will eventually tear him apart. Let him have a chance at the life he deserves to have.”

If her earlier words had stabbed him, now she was pounding the knife in with a brick. Starsky’s heart was held in a vise, and he was having trouble drawing a full breath of air.

Jeannie stood. “Think about it, Dave. Only you can give him a chance for real happiness. We were happy before, and we can be again. If you love him, you’ll give him this.” She walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

Starsky sat in the same place for a long time, thoughts buzzing in his brain like so many crazed bees, his mind dragging back to that day three weeks ago when everything had come together for him. _God, was it really only three weeks ago?_

They’d been at Hutch’s, playing a game of Monopoly on the floor of his living room after a week of being stuck in the squad room cleaning up mountains of paperwork. Both had more than their fair share of pent-up energy.

 

_“Starsky, you’re cheating, and not doing it very well, either,” Hutch accused, exasperated._

_“I am not cheatin’!” Starsky exclaimed, reaching for a beer and knocking Hutch’s motel off the board in the process. He then surreptitiously palmed some of Hutch’s paper money before bringing the beer to his mouth, a smile playing about his lips._

_“I saw that, and stop smirking!” Hutch made a grab for the money, but Starsky leaned back, just out of his reach._

_“I don’t smirk!”_

_“Oh, come off it! You’re the smirkin’est_ sonnavabitch _I’ve ever met,” Hutch put his beer down and got up on his knees, coming after him with real intent in his eyes. “Now gimme my money, you cheat!”_

_Starsky fell back on an elbow then rolled away just as Hutch reached him, causing Hutch to collapse face-first onto the carpet. “Dammit, hold still!”_

_“You gotta be kiddin’ me!” Starsky laughed, ditching his beer and rolling across the carpet until he came to a stop at the couch. Hutch made a dive for him, and Starsky, not sure what to do with the wad of colored cash, stuffed it down the front of his jeans._

_Hutch crawled forward, looking every bit like a snow leopard stalking its prey, and growled, “You think that’s gonna stop me, partner?”_

_Starsky gave his pants a quick glance, then looked back up at Hutch. “I kinda hoped it might.”_

_Hutch pounced, his hands on Starsky’s zipper, and yanked, his hand slithering inside, fumbling for the money._

_“Good god, Hutch, okay! All right! I’ll give it to you—holy shit, let go, that’s NOT the money!” he lapsed into laughter, and Hutch withdrew his hand, slightly abashed at his behavior. Starsky sat up and handed Hutch a bill. “There! So now you have your money, you pervert!”_

_Hutch looked down. “Starsky, this is a one. You took more than that.”_

_Starsky hitched his knees up to cover himself. “I resent your accusations!”_

_Hutch shook his head. “You little cheating bastard…” He pounced again and Starsky rolled sideways out of his reach, then scrambled up and raced into the kitchen. Hutch was after him like a shot, almost cornering him by the refrigerator before a fake to the right allowed his partner to scuttle past and run like hell through the living room and into the bedroom._

_“Now I’ve got you, you weasel!” Hutch rumbled with satisfaction as he entered the bedroom and closed the door. “You’re trapped!”_

_Starsky had made it to the other side of the bed and was poised to run whichever way Hutch didn’t. This time Hutch faked a right, and when Starsky climbed up on the bed to go over it, Hutch was ahead of him and came up from the foot. In two seconds he had his writhing partner pinned to the bed._

_“Lemme go, Hutch! You’re makin’ a big mistake!”_

_Hutch raised a brow. “Oh,yeah? I’ll give you this one chance to come clean, Starsky. Give me the rest of the money you took.”_

_“An’ if I don’t?” Starsky asked, looking him in the eye with a dare._

_Hutch brought his face within a millimeter’s of his partner’s and answered, his face intense, “Then I’ll just take what’s mine.”_

_The words coupled with the look sent a rolling shiver down Starsky’s spine, and his mouth fell open. Hutch’s attention shifted from Starsky’s gaze to his lips, and back again. Slightly less sure of himself, he asked, “What’s it gonna be, Starsk?”_

_“Are we still talkin’ about the fake Monopoly money?” Starsky asked carefully, and watched as his partner’s expression changed. His hold on Starsky’s arms eased._

_“Just askin’,” Starsky told him gently. He watched the flush make its way up Hutch’s neck to color his face, turning his eyes indigo. He was breathing hard, his blond hair mussed, the V of his shirt exposed inches of smooth, tanned skin, and his hands on Starsky’s arms were warm and strong. Starsky was suddenly, intensely aware of all this and more._

_Before he could stop himself, he said throatily, “I’m thinkin’ you should take what’s yours, partner.”_

_Hutch seemed to be trying to decide what to do, and Starsky was beginning to think he was going to_ think _it all to death, as was his custom anywhere but on the streets, when Hutch’s eyes zeroed in on Starsky’s lips and, swooping down, he enveloped them with his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue entering and then plunging, and Starsky became lost in sensation._

 _In Starsky’s whole fucking life, nothing had ever felt so good and so damned_ right.

_He buried his hands in Hutch’s hair, meeting him stroke for stroke with this tongue, wrapping his legs around his partner’s torso in his excitement, spurred on by the feeling of Hutch’s hardness pressed against his own._

_God, how he loved him._

 

Starsky’s memories were interrupted by a rap on the door. He looked around, surprised to see the light had dimmed perceptibly in the small apartment. He wondered how late it was, and pulled himself up off the sofa.

“Starsk! Are you in there?” Hutch’s muffled voice came from the other side of the wood.

Starsky froze. He looked at his watch.  _Shit_. He suddenly felt that he couldn’t face his partner, but he knew if he didn’t open the door, Hutch would use his key. Slowly he walked over and opened it.

Hutch leaned on the door jam, his face drawn with worry. Starsky took in his appearance, from the silky hair so blond it was almost white, to the blue T-shirt, to the dark jeans and sneakers. He was beautiful, and Starsky’s heart hurt just looking at him.

The last thing he wanted for his partner was for him to give up what he wanted. As much as this new aspect of their relationship meant to Starsky, nothing was more important to him than Hutch’s happiness. But it hurt like hell to let him go.

He stepped back, and Hutch walked in, closing the door.

“What happened? I’ve been waiting for you for an hour! And you haven’t answered the phone!”

Starsky turned away, walking into the kitchen and finding some beer in the refrigerator. “Didn’t hear it, I guess,” he said numbly. Hutch had followed on his heels, and he handed him a beer. Starsky turned and strode into the living room, taking a seat on the couch where he’d spent the last couple of hours reliving moments he would always cherish. Leaning his head back on the sofa, he said carefully, “Hutch, I been thinkin’.”

“Is that why you’re still sitting here and not at my place?” Hutch asked, opening his beer and taking a long drink.

Starsky couldn’t look Hutch in the face when he said this, so he continued staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about some heavy stuff.” He swallowed hard. “I think---I think we should go back to the way things were with us.”

Silence. Starsky resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. Finally, he heard Hutch move and put the beer down. Then the sofa cushion beside him dipped.  _Oh, please don’t touch me, Hutch. I can’t take it…don’t you know I’m crazy about you? I been wantin’ to tell you for the longest time._

“Starsky,” Hutch’s voice sounded ragged, and it bit into Starsky’ already wounded heart. “Starsk, please look at me.”

Starsky had to look, because he could deny this man nothing. Wasn’t that why he was giving all this up? So Hutch could have the kind of life he deserved? Hutch would never in a million years tell him that he wanted to go back to things the way they were before; the blonde bimbo was right about that. Rather than hurt him, Starsky knew Hutch would fight his own feelings—forever, if he had to.

Hutch’s face was a study in pain and confusion. “I thought—well, I thought you were happy.”

Starsky firmed his jaw, determined not to crack. As much as he hated for Hutch to think he wasn’t happy with their current relationship, he had to give him this out. Hutch would get over it. He would be with Jeannie and find real happiness.  What would Hutch’s life be like with Starsky, anyway? Always hiding? Always having to watch his back and worry about Starsky at the same time? Never allowed to be in the open. For a man like Hutch, it would be hell.

“It was good, Hutch. Real good. But---well, maybe you were right about being late for work and all. It’s messin’ with the job, and we agreed our partnership is the most important thing. I don’t wanna fuck that up. We might oughta stop while it’s still early. ‘Sides,” Starsky knew he needed the strength of a good argument, “I kinda still like the idea of a wife and a coupla kids. And you know that’s never gonna happen with the two of us all hung up on each other. You see what I’m sayin, doncha?”

Hutch stared at him. It was one of the few times Starsky couldn’t read his face. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quiet and even. There was some emotion running through him, but Starsky wasn’t sure what it was. Could it be relief?

Starsky forced himself to nod. “I’m sure, partner. Better to end it now and be done with it.” He put a hand on Hutch’s knee and patted it, conveying that the line was drawn.

Hutch abruptly stood up. “Well, I’m going to go, then.” He walked quickly to the door and without turning around, said, “Maybe we should just stay away from each other this weekend. Start fresh on Monday.”

“Okay,” Starsky agreed, and watched his retreating back. When the door clicked shut, Starsky drew his knees up to his chest and shut his eyes.

 

It had been an irritating afternoon for Hutch playing tag with Mickey, who called the bar thirty minutes after he was supposed to show, to get the bartender to tell Hutch to meet Mickey at a diner on sixth street, where Hutch had to wait again. The information Mickey gave Hutch once he showed up wasn’t even been worth it. Needless to say, Hutch didn’t paid him, but Mickey’s hands were steadier than usual and he didn’t seem to be hurting for a drink.

Then Hutch had gotten home, prepared a meal and showered, and Starsky hadn’t shown or answered his phone. That had really worried Hutch; Starsky would never let Hutch sweat over his partner’s whereabouts if everything was fine. Racing over there in fear, sure that something was terribly wrong, Hutch had instead found Starsky calmly sitting in his apartment, and Starsky had hit him with the bombshell-- He wanted to go back to the way it was before.

Emotionally wrought, Hutch barely made it out of Starsky’s place before the tears started falling. He sat in his car for a good half-hour getting himself under control before he could drive. He felt like a putz. Why hadn’t he realized that this whole thing meant a great deal more to him than it did to his partner? Why hadn’t he guarded his heart instead of throwing it out there like he had? Why had he thought Starsky was in love with him? He’d never said so, certainly.

It made Hutch go over every moment the two of them had been intimate in a different light. What had this look really meant? What had that touch conveyed?

The sun rose to find Hutch sitting in his glassed-in porch watching its rays chase the shadows away, the final dregs of last night’s pot of coffee bitter on his tongue. To think, this long weekend was supposed to get his relationship with Starsky back on track…or really just give them a lot of alone time. Now it was going to be spent apart, and he was going to have to return to work on Monday and revert to a platonic relationship with his partner after three weeks of the best sex he’d ever had. Of course, it wasn’t just that. Hutch’s feelings for Starsky had taken off like a rocket bound for the moon, and there was simply no going back from that. He’d loved the man before, but what they’d cemented physically was not something that could diminish over time. However, if Starsky wanted a platonic relationship and a chance for a future with a woman, Hutch would give it to him.

No matter how much it hurt.

Rising, he filled the watering can and spent a little time with his plants, trying not to think of his partner. That was futile, of course, and he found himself wondering if Starsky had been trying to drop this bomb on him for days. He’d certainly looked like he’d wanted to tell Hutch something a few times lately, and Hutch had silenced Starsky by seduction. That made Hutch feel about as low as the bug he’d just flicked off the leaf of his African Violet. Setting down the can, he moved into the kitchen, scrubbing at his eyes with his fists. He was so damned tired, but he couldn’t sleep. Every time he put his head to the pillow, memories of Starsky’s words came back to him. The entire long weekend yawned ahead of him with only the pain in his heart to keep him company. He hadn’t slept a wink, and it felt like sand had taken up residence under his eyelids. He felt lightheaded and drained.

Going into the bathroom, Hutch went through the medicine cabinet, finally finding some anti-anxiety medication that had been prescribed to him after his wreck in the ravine. He had suffered several acute anxiety attacks in the hospital, but once home, he’d only had to take a pill twice. Hutch recalled that they had made him slightly sleepy, so now he took a couple with a glass of water and collapsed on the bed, burying his face in Starsky’s pillow, comforted by the traces of his scent. Finally, mercifully, he drifted into a mindless slumber.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hutch had an iron hold on himself when Monday came along. He’d spent the weekend running and sleeping. That was all he did. He’d run in the park until he was exhausted, and then come home and try to sleep. But images of nights spent in that very bed with the person he loved more than anything wouldn’t allow him to rest, so he’d take another two pills before gradually sinking into oblivion.

On the job, Starsky seemed the same as always, only he didn’t flirt with Hutch anymore when they were in the car. He was, however, solicitous, and he kept up the jovial banter. The touching that Captain Dobey had missed was back in full force. Hutch didn’t know if Starsky was making a concerted effort to do it, or if he’d just naturally fallen back into their old habits. He didn’t really care. He was only grateful to have him touching him in some fashion. He thought if he’d had to go without it, he’d wither up and die. He wondered at the way Starsky was able to just shut off from what they’d had the past few weeks. It couldn’t possibly have meant as much to him as it had to Hutch, or he wouldn’t be so relaxed and casual, while Hutch was a nervous wreck.

As they drove their regular beat, Hutch found himself staring at Starsky’s hands on the wheel. Graceful hands with slender fingers that had, for a short time, run down Hutch’s body and made him shiver with anticipation.

Shaking his head with a jerk, he snapped himself out of it. Starsky gave him a curious look. “You okay? You look a little peak-ed.”

“I’m fine,” Hutch lied. He wasn’t sleeping as well as the first couple of nights he took the pills, and in the daytime he found himself tightly wound. It took everything he had to appear calm, and Starsky could still tell something was wrong. But, of course, Starsky had always been able to read him like a book. Taking a deep breath, he made more of an effort to calm down, and his partner didn’t bring it up again.

That evening after work, Hutch opened the refrigerator and stared unseeingly into it. He wasn’t hungry. In fact, he couldn’t wait to go to bed. The strain of trying to appear normal for Starsky had weighed heavily upon him all day, leaving Hutch exhausted.

Taking a quick shower, he slipped on his pajama bottoms and headed for the bed. Never one to take medication unless absolutely necessary, Hutch determined to try to get to sleep without the help of the pills. A knock startled him. Padding on bare feet to the door, he unlocked and opened it.

Jeannie stood in the foyer, a smile on her face. “Hi, Hutch. Do you have a minute?”

Hutch bit back a sigh. He just wanted to sleep. However, he didn’t like to be rude, especially to a lady, so he opened the door wide and motioned her in.

Jeannie’s eye roamed over Hutch. “I just stopped by to tell you that I’m really sorry I came on so strong the other day. I totally respect that you are involved with someone else. I would really like it if we could be friends, though, Hutch. I don’t know too many people in the area.”

Hutch looked pained. “Actually, that person and I aren’t seeing one another anymore.” He looked down at his bare feet, finding the conversation excruciating. He wished Jeannie would leave. He just wanted to go to bed and forget for a while.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, Hutch, really.” Jeannie put out a hand and ran it down his arm. Hutch wanted to jerk away, but he was too drained. “Say, I just got a job as a secretary at a law office, and I start tomorrow. How about you celebrate with me tomorrow night? Just as friends, of course.”

Hutch really didn’t want to. He started to decline, and Jeannie raced on, “And maybe your partner can join us…I just saw him with a pretty brunette making out hot and heavy outside the movie theater, so obviously he’s seeing someone. It could be a foursome.”

Hutch’s head snapped up, and his jaw clamped. Starsky was already back out there dating? While Hutch sat around pining over him. “I—guess we could meet, but let’s leave Starsky out of it. Where do you want to go?”

Jeannie smiled. “Oh, I don’t know…how about Huggy’s? That’s near my job, and I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back. Meet me there at six.”

Hutch nodded, and Jeannie leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek before leaving, saying, “Get some rest, Hutch, you look so tired!”

When Hutch shut the door, he leaned against it, his mind reeling. Hurt and jealousy roiled in his gut. Pushing off the wood, he made his way to the bathroom, took the bottle of pills and shook a couple into his hand before swallowing them dry. Pausing a moment, he shook another one out, swallowed it, and went to bed, praying for the black sleep that kept dreams of his partner at bay.

oooOOOOooo

The following day, after taking care of paper work, the partners hit the streets again. Starsky thought Hutch looked edgy, noting the way he kept rubbing his palms over his thighs, something his partner often did when agitated. Starsky knew better than to ask if something was wrong, though, since every time he did, Hutch bit his head off. It bothered Starsky that he’d made this decision so that Hutch would be happy, yet he didn’t look happy at all. Lord knew, Starsky wasn’t happy. Putting up this front for his partner was difficult as hell. He wished they could get it all out into the open, the way they used to. He resolved to try, but as Hutch looked ready to jump out of his skin at any moment, he thought he’d wait until a better time to bring it up.

Starsky didn’t look forward to the conversation, though. He was hurting. He couldn’t look at his partner without seeing the things they’d done together, and remembering the feelings that had gone with it, at least on his part. But he made certain that he touched Hutch’s arm, patted his stomach, rested a hand on his leg, put an arm around his shoulders, as much as possible. After all, it was all he had left. And he wanted to make sure Hutch knew he would always love him.

~~~

That night, Hutch entered Huggy’s and ordered a draft, fervently wishing he hadn’t agreed to meet Jeannie. He found her seated in a booth, looking fresh and lovely in a pale yellow dress, and slid in beside her. Hutch nursed his beer, feeling uptight and jittery, listening to her chat about her day. He kept shaking his leg until finally it would jar the table, and then he’d notice and abruptly stop, only to find himself doing it again a minute later. If Jeannie noticed it, she didn’t say anything at first. She kept up a steady stream of conversation about her new job, and Hutch tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but found he couldn’t.

“Hutch, you are so uptight,” she finally said, reaching behind him to massage the tight muscles in his neck. He had to admit, it felt really good. “If we were dating, I’d know exactly what you need to get rid of the stress,” she said playfully. Hutch didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand, it brought back memories of Jeannie riding him, head shamelessly thrown back, and that turned him on. On the other, it made him think of Starsky, which in turn made him sad and depressed. He sighed dolefully. He was going to have to snap out of this funk. He and Starsky had been friends before, and they were lucky they were friends now. He was the one who’d been saying the partnership was the most important thing, although he knew Starsky agreed. Just because his partner didn’t want to pursue a physical side to their relationship didn’t mean Hutch’s life needed to come to a screeching halt. He excused himself from Jeannie and walked over to the Juke Box, putting a dime in and choosing “The Best of My Love” by the Eagles. Returning to the booth, he asked Jeannie to dance. She smiled, took his hand, and they walked over to the small area Huggy had cleared for that purpose.

 _Every night I’m lyin’ in bed_  
Holdin’ you close in my dreams  
Thinkin’ about all the things that we said  
And comin’ apart at the seams  
We try to talk it over  
But the words come out too rough  
I know you were tryin’  
To give me the best of your love

Hutch held Jeannie as they swayed to the music, and he closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and tried to blank out his mind, although the words hit a little too close to home. Why in the hell had he chosen this song? He took a deep breath, let it out, and thoughts of those wonderful moments with his partner filled his head.

He didn’t see Starsky come in the door and stop dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Hutch dancing with Jeannie, his eyes closed with the first look of real peace on his face that he’d seen in days.

 _You know we always had each other baby_  
I guess that wasn’t enough  
Oh, but here in my heart  
I give you the best of my love  
Oh, sweet darlin’  
You get the best of my love  
Every night and day,  
You get the best of my love

Starsky swallowed hard and backed out of the bar and out the door, thankful that neither Hutch nor Huggy had seen him. Climbing the steps to the sidewalk, he stood against the wall taking shallow breaths, wishing he hadn’t gone in there. Hutch looked so right dancing with a beautiful woman. He deserved the life he could have with her. Starsky knew then and there he wouldn’t press his partner about his mood. Hutch may have been edgy lately, but with Jeannie, he seemed to be genuinely happy.

~~~

Hutch drove Jeannie home early, telling her he was tired, which wasn’t a lie. At her door, she kissed him softly on the lips. Hutch concentrated on news radio on the drive home, and as soon as he got inside his apartment, he turned it on in there, too, letting Michael Jackson’s soothing British commentary work at smoothing out his tattered nerves.

When he climbed into bed, he lay awake, tossing and turning, thinking about the first night he and Starsky had been together, when they’d jumped into uncharted territory and he’d felt his partner enter and move inside of him. Their eyes had met, clouded with unimaginable pleasure, and Hutch could have sworn he saw real love in Starsky’s gaze. Unconditional, I-want-to-do-this-forever, love. But he’d been wrong. Starsky didn’t want that; he wanted conventional love, and Hutch was left with only emptiness.

He sighed. He’d taken the two pills he usually took to fall asleep, but they weren’t working. In fact, his heart was beating double time. He spilled a couple more into his palm and washed them down with a sip from the beer bottle beside his bed.

Ooo

After seeing him look so good Tuesday night, Starsky was shocked on Wednesday to find his partner jumpier than ever.

“Hutch, I’m not trying to get on your case, but what is wrong with you? You’re jumpin’ around like a cricket in a jar!” Starsky said when they’d called in a Code 7 and stopped to eat at a hot dog stand. Taking seats at an outdoor bench, they sat looking over the park where three kids threw a Frisbee to their dog and a couple struggled to get their kite to take flight.

Hutch pushed Starsky’s hot dog with the works across the table and took a bite of his own plain one. A stray breeze lifted his hair and ruffled it, the blond strands catching and holding the light of the sun. Starsky noticed Hutch’s knee jerking under the table to beat the band, and he reached over and put a restraining hand on it. Their eyes met, and for an unguarded moment, Starsky thought he read pain in Hutch’s expression. It pulled him up sharply on the bench.

“Buddy…” he began, but Hutch swung his legs off the other side and jumped up, taking another bite of his hot dog and then cramming the rest in the trash can.

“I’m gonna stretch my legs,” he said, and started to walk away.

Starsky turned and rose, concern forcing him to question his partner. “Wait a minute, Hutch, I just want to talk to you. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Hutch swung around, his face angry. “Look, you got what you wanted, we aren’t sleeping together, so would you just stop analyzing me?”

Starsky was taken aback. “Does that mean I can’t care about you anymore?”

“I don’t know, Starsky, does it?” Hutch eyed him for a moment, eyebrow arched, before swinging around and striding off across the park.

Starsky was at a loss. They’d gone from partners and best friends to lovers and now back to partners, but had the best friends part been lost somewhere in the shuffle? Hutch certainly wasn’t confiding in him. Starsky had given up what they’d had for his partner’s happiness, but Hutch continued to look miserable. He was a nervous wreck, and Starsky wanted to know why. He clenched his fists on the table.

From the Torino, he heard the radio crackle.  _All units, a 415 in progress, 4th and Champion._

Realizing that was close by, Starsky jogged over to the car, leaned in the window, and grabbed the handset. “Zebra 3 logging in and responding to the 415.” 

_Roger, Zebra 3. Proceed with caution, possible weapon reported, out._

Starsky opened the door and slid behind the wheel, slamming the Mars light on and flipping the siren. He paused to pick up Hutch on the other side of the park.

“Possible armed disturbance,” Starsky told him as he squealed out of the small parking lot, churning gravel beneath the wheels of the Torino.

Arriving at 4th and Champion, they found two young men and a girl in front of a restaurant, with one boy waving a switch blade and screaming into the other guy’s face. The girl stood to the side crying hysterically. “Don’t kill him, Frankie!” She kept screaming. A small crowd had gathered to watch the commotion.

As soon as the car neared the curb, Hutch jumped out, flashing his badge. He ordered the man to put the knife away.

“Oh, god, don’t arrest him, officer!” the girl sobbed. “Mitch is on probation, and he didn’t do anything wrong! Frankie’s just jealous!”

“Let’s see if we can settle this nice and friendly,” Starsky told her calmly, coming around the car. “You go stand over there.”

The dark-haired boy kept waving his blade in the other guy’s face, who stood frozen to the spot as though afraid to move.

“You know she’s my girl, Mitch! You’re gonna pay for this!” As the boy moved forward with the knife, Hutch took a hold of his arm, pulling it back, but a sudden tremor in his hand caused his grip to slip. With a jerk, Frankie yanked away and swung around, his switch blade slicing through Hutch’s outer shirt. Hutch stood blinking a moment, seemingly stunned, and Starsky stepped forward and, applying a hard chop to Frankie’s forearm, knocked the blade to the ground. Yanking the kid’s arms behind his back, Starsky cuffed him. Hutch seemed to come alive then, and began reading Frankie his rights as he ushered him to the assisting patrol car.

“You okay?” Starsky asked when Hutch finished the Miranda Warning, his eyes raking over his partner.

“Yeah,” Hutch assured him, wiping sweat from his brow, but Starsky wasn’t satisfied.

“Wanna take their statements?” Starsky said to Officer Batson and his partner. He pulled Hutch aside. “You’re sweating like a pig; you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I said I’m okay, Starsky! It’s damn hot out here!” Hutch ran a hand through his hair, and Starsky noticed the hand was shaking.

“Well your shirt is mincemeat, pal.” He patted Hutch’s stomach and Hutch sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. The material where Starsky had touched him stuck to his skin in a blazing patch of red. Aghast, Starsky whispered, “Hutch, you’re bleedin’!”

Hutch looked down, surprised, as, with careful fingers, Starsky pulled aside the T-shirt where it was sliced in two so he could get a better look. “God, you’re cut all the way down your front! Shit!” He looked around frantically for a place to sit Hutch down. “Oh my god, why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t realize…” The blood now dripped to the sidewalk in bright patches of crimson that Hutch couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

“Here, pal, sit down where you are,” Starsky’s voice shook as he tugged on his partner’s arm.

Hutch tried to object, but all of a sudden he was dizzy and nauseous, and the hot sidewalk looked like as good a place as any to take a seat.

“Call an ambulance!” Starsky yelled hoarsely over his shoulder, while pulling his own light jacket and gun holster off in order to get to his shirt. Yanking it over his head, he bunched it into a ball, directed Hutch to lie flat on his back, and held it to the wound.

“Funny, but I didn’t feel the cut at all,” Hutch said drowsily, staring past his partner’s head up at the hazy sky. “I’m just real tired.”

Blood was coming out of Hutch faster than Starsky could mop it up, and wild panic rose in his gut. “Oh shit, oh shit…” he muttered. “Where in the hell is that ambulance?” he yelled. “Batson, you got something I can use? My shirt’s already full…shit!” He looked at Hutch’s pale face, wondering how he could possibly have any blood left in him. “Hang on, partner.” A minute later, Batson handed him his shirt, and Starsky tossed his own aside. Once light blue, it was now a brilliant, terrifying red. Starsky applied pressure with Batson’s shirt, blinking away sweat as he watched Hutch’s eyes flutter in an attempt to remain open.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and Starsky prayed they’d hurry.

“Don’t worry, Starsk,” Hutch said faintly, and Starsky met the unfocused blue of Hutch’s gaze. It was the only color in his face—even his lips were now white. Starsky was putting as much pressure as he could on the wound, but Hutch was still bleeding.

“God, Hutch, hang on! You gotta hang on.”

Batson came to kneel beside Hutch on the other side. “What can I do?” he asked.

“Put pressure on this,” Starsky ordered, and Batson took over with the T-shirt compress.

Starsky lifted a shaking hand to Hutch’s cheek and stroked it, leaving a streak of brilliant scarlet blood on the bone-white skin. “Babe, you gotta hold on…please.” His voice was pleading. He’d never been so scared in his life. He could feel himself shaking down to his bones.

“Tryin’, buddy,” Hutch whispered on a soft breath. “Sorry, Starsk. Sorry such a bastard...”

Starsky was suddenly deathly afraid that this was it. Hutch’s life was draining out right before his eyes, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He gripped his partner’s hand hard, willing his own strength into him. “Don’t be stupid, buddy. You haven’t been any worse than you’ve always been.” He tried to smile but he knew it came off more as a sick grimace. “Anyway, no sorries needed between us, you know that. Just hold on.”

The sirens got closer, and Starsky was dimly aware of the ambulance pulling up to the curb. He leaned down to whisper in Hutch’s ear. “Hang on!” Hutch’s lashes fluttered, and the hand that Starsky held went limp. “Don’t leave me, Hutch, please don’t go,” Starsky’s voice broke, heedless of Batson’s listening ears.

Another few seconds and the paramedics took over. Batson and his partner pulled Starsky out of the way. The sheer amount of blood on the pavement, and knowing it came from Hutch, threatened to make the frantic detective lose his lunch. How could Hutch bleed that much and live? When the stretcher disappeared into the back of the ambulance, Starsky rushed forward to climb in after it, explaining that Hutch was his partner.

“You know his blood type?” one paramedic asked as the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away from the curb.

“B negative,” Starsky supplied, his eyes fixed on Hutch’s face. He had lost consciousness. Starsky wished he could tell him how much he loved him. He wished he could hold his hand, but the paramedics were in the way. The best he could do was sift his fingers through his hair and hope Hutch recognized his touch.

The ride to Memorial seemed to take forever. Hutch didn’t regain consciousness, and the paramedics couldn’t tell Starsky anything except that Hutch was hanging in there.

Once again, Starsky found himself in the emergency waiting room. He would much prefer to be the one on the receiving end of medical attention than the one waiting for news. It had happened all too often, the most recent when Hutch had been trapped under his car.

Half an hour passed. Starsky figured he must’ve asked the desk nurse eight times if she’d heard any news on Hutch. He was relieved when Dobey appeared with six officers behind him, giving him something—anything—to focus on other than his partner’s life being in the balance. At Starsky’s questioning look, Dobey said, “They’re all B negative.”

Starsky sighed, and nodded gratefully at the officers, who moved over to the desk to offer to donate to their brother cop.

“Heard anything?” Dobey asked. Starsky shook his head. “What happened out there, Starsky?”

“The guy sliced him with his blade…took Hutch by surprise.” Starsky had been wondering himself what had really happened. It seemed to him that Hutch’s reflexes hadn’t been too good, but he wasn’t about to tell Dobey that. “There was so much blood, Cap’n.” Starsky collapsed back into his chair.

Dobey put his hand on his detective’s shoulder. “There’s plenty more where that came from,” he smiled, indicating the six officers who were being ushered to a back room. He sat down beside Starsky to wait.

Finally, a doctor appeared. “Relatives of Kenneth Hutchinson?” he called into the waiting room, and Starsky and Dobey rose, moving toward him. The doctor ushered them to a private area, and Starsky had the horrible thought that he was going to tell them Hutch had died. His hand went to his chest, and his breathing shortened.

“Easy,” Dobey’s meaty hand on Starsky’s left shoulder steadied him.

Once they’d seated themselves, the doctor removed his small, wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Detective Hutchinson has lost a great deal of blood,” he told them. Starsky could see that a lot of that blood had made it to the front of the doctor’s scrubs, and his heart accelerated.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked quickly.

“He should be. He just received another transfusion. The donations were greatly appreciated.” The doctor smiled at Captain Dobey.

“We take care of our own,” Dobey said proudly.

“He’s had close to sixty stitches. The wound was extensive, but fortunately didn’t do too much muscle damage.”

“Can I see him?” Starsky asked.

“He’ll be resting in a room within the half hour. You can see him then.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Starsky sat staring at Hutch, whose face was as white as the pillow case beneath him. He’d been there for hours, and his partner had yet to open his eyes.

“Dinner time,” Huggy’s voice came from the doorway. He carried in a white take-out box and a Styrofoam cup, setting them on the bedside table. “I bet you haven’t eaten yet, and I brought you a burger with the works, including chili.”

“Thanks, Hug,” Starsky tried to smile. He wasn’t hungry, but he opened the lid and ate a chip to please his friend.

“He come around yet?” Huggy asked, looking at his friend in the bed. When Starsky shook his head, he continued, “Man, I didn’t think you honkies could get any whiter, but I guess I was wrong!” His worried tone belied the lightness of the words.

“He lost so much blood at the scene, he almost died. I could see him fading away right in front of me, but I couldn’t do anything,” Starsky said flatly, and Huggy cut his eyes over to him.

“I’m sure you did everything you could.”                                                                                                         

Starsky shrugged, sinking further into the chair. Silence reigned for several minutes.

“Say, Starsky, it ain’t any of my business, but…” Huggy leaned against the window sill looking reflective. “Well, I coulda sworn I had this vibe from you two a while back …uh…”

Starsky looked up at him, not too surprised Huggy had noticed. He considered whether or not to tell Huggy the truth, then decided the man was too good a friend not to.

“You were right,” he sighed, but just as Huggy’s brows shot up and his mouth started to form what Starsky thought might be a smile, he added, “but that’s over.”

“What?” Huggy sputtered. “You mean the two of you finally figure it out, and then you break up?”

“We hardly broke up, Huggy, we’re still partners and friends.”

“You’re a food, Dave Starsky!”

Starsky sat up straighter. “Hey, how do you know he didn’t break up with me?”

Huggy crossed his arms over his chest. “Did he?”

Starsky sighed and sank down again. “No.”

“See? Hutch wouldn’t do that. That’s how I know.”

”So I guess you’ve got me pegged as a selfish bastard, then. Well, great, Huggy, thanks a million.”

Huggy opened his mouth to retort, but a faint voice in a grouchy monotone stopped them.

“Will you two pipe down? I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

Huggy and Starsky looked over at Hutch, who was blinking slowly. Starsky leaned forward and took his hand. “Hutch…you’re okay, buddy. They’ve stuffed you full of the blood of LA’s finest. Stitched you all up, too.”

Hutch moved and winced. “Must be why I’m hurtin’ so much. What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Hutch shook his head.

“Some weasel carved you like a Thanksgiving turkey,” Huggy supplied.

“Remember the disturbance?” Starsky prompted. “You went to grab the guy’s arm and your hand slipped. He turned and cut you. I didn’t even know it until after we got the guy in the car.”

Hutch swallowed, nodding slightly.

It hurt Starsky how vulnerable his partner looked with his pale face and the IVs coming out of his arm. Starsky wanted to gather him up and hold him, and that feeling wasn’t new; he’d always felt that way when Hutch was hurting.

“I’m going for some coffee,” Huggy announced. “See you in a bit, Hutch. Glad you’re okay.”

Hutch raised a weak finger in salute, and Huggy went out the door.

Starsky knew his wise friend was giving them some time alone, and he knew he should make good use of it.

He touched Hutch’s bare arm. “You really scared me this time, buddy. I-I thought you were a goner for sure. I think my hair’s turned solid white, I’ve been so scared.”

Hutch looked over at him. “No, you’re as… devilishly handsome as ever,” he whispered.

Starsky grinned. “You silver-tongued…” his words were cut off as the door opened and Jeannie rushed in.

“Hutch! Oh my GOD!”

Hutch frowned, “Jeannie—how…”

“It was on the evening news! I rushed right over here!”

Starsky stood up and took a step back. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” he said.

Every bit of Hutch’s torso screamed in pain. He couldn’t move without it shooting through him, sharp and swift. Having Starsky there beside him was his only comfort, and Hutch wanted to call to him to please stay, but Jeannie blocked his view, and Hutch wasn’t able to raise his voice. She ran her fingers through his hair and crooned, “You are so brave…”

Didn’t Starsky know Hutch needed him there with him? Why didn’t he chase Jeannie away? Tell her Hutch needed his rest? With a shaking sigh, he resigned himself to Jeannie’s coddling.

Starsky couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Standing in the hall, he turned to look through the window. Jeannie bent down to kiss Hutch on the lips, her hand in his hair. Jerking away from the door, Starsky took off down the hall at a fast clip.

Meeting up with Huggy in the cafeteria, Starsky paid for a cup of coffee and sat down across from his friend.

“What the hell?” Huggy leaned back, giving him his  _you jive turkey!_ look. “Didn’t I just make a quick exit so you could have time with the blond?”

“Yeah, but Jeannie showed up.” Starsky took a sip of his coffee, his eyes on the cup.

“Jeannie. Jeannie who?”

“Walton. Remember? The one who was responsible for him getting kidnapped and hooked on horse.”

Huggy frowned. “Ah, yeah. But she left town…”

“She’s back, and they’re back together.”

Huggy shook his head. “But you said that you broke up with him, not the other way around.”

Starsky sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I did it so he could be with her.”

“How do you know he wanted to be with her?”

Starsky met Huggy’s gaze. “She told me.”

“ _She_ told you.”

“Well, she pointed out that he deserved the chance to see if a traditional life with her would make him happy. So I gave him an out.” Starsky scratched at the Formica table top with his finger nail, avoiding Huggy’s piercing gaze.

Huggy remained quiet. He sipped his coffee and watched Starsky with contemplative eyes.

“Whaddya lookin’ at?” Starsky finally asked gruffly, exasperated at the heavy scrutiny.

“Just thinkin’ I have a little piece of swamp land I’d like to sell you, that’s all.”

Starsky shook his head. “Huggy, the trouble with you is you’re such a goddamn romantic.”

“Huh,” Huggy continued drinking his coffee. “The trouble with you is, you don’t think. Not with your brain, anyway. It’s always with your heart or with Little Dave. And neither one of them is very smart.”

~~~

Jeannie watched Hutch sleeping, thinking about how much she’d missed him and how very much he meant to her. It wouldn’t be long now until he was hers again. They could set up house…have some little blond children. Maybe she could even convince Hutch to take the lieutenants exam. Lord knows he didn’t make much money now.

It had been pathetically easy to manipulate Starsky into giving him up—which just went to show that he didn’t love Hutch enough. Of course, she’d known that all along. Two men couldn’t love one another with the depth a man and a woman could.

Thinking about Starsky, she went out into the hall and waited for him to return, which she knew he would. It took a while, but the elevator down the hall opened, and he stepped out. She watched his sexy swagger get closer.

“Is he okay, Jeannie?” he asked when he saw her standing outside the door.

“Sure, as well as can be expected. He’s asleep. I plan to stay here all night, so you can go home, Dave.”

Starsky’s gaze crawled toward the door, uncertainty written all over his ruggedly handsome face.

Jeannie licked her lips. “I don’t want to be mean, but I don’t think he really wants you here, Dave. It makes him feel, well, self-conscious to have his partner looking at him when he feels weak. He wants a little coddling, and he can’t accept that with you watching.”

“Did he say that?” Starsky asked, taken aback. He knew Hutch didn’t like to appear weak—hell, what man did? But in front of  _him_?

Jeannie nodded. “He admitted it to me.” She ran a hand through her blond hair, twirling a piece of it around her fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here with him every minute.”

Starsky shifted on his feet, not sure what to do. Finally, he nodded once, turned, and left.

Jeannie sighed. The man’s intense stare was difficult to withstand sometimes. She pushed the door into Hutch’s hospital room, surprised to see Hutch blinking sleepily.

“Hello, sweetie…” she whispered.

“Starsky?” Hutch asked, looking around with glazed eyes.

“He went home. He asked me to stay with you,” Jeannie lied smoothly.

Hutch’s mouth turned down. “Is something wrong?” He’d never known Starsky to leave him while he was so sick, unless it was really important.

Jeannie shrugged. “No. I think he said he had a date.”

“Oh.” Hutch didn’t look at her.

“Do you need some pain medication, Hutch? I can call the nurse.”

Shame for taking the anti-anxiety medication before washed over Hutch—it had given him the shakes, which had caused him to be injured. He shook his head, but asked Jeannie to see if she could get him something to drink. She smiled, patting his hand.

“Sure, baby.”

After she left, Hutch put a hand to his chest and winced.

Suddenly his wound hurt very much. Or maybe it was just his heart.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When the hospital released Hutch late the next day, Jeannie made sure she was the one to take him home. She let Hutch know in no uncertain terms that his partner was too busy with work and his new girlfriend to take care of him, but she was more than happy to do the job.

She conversely told Starsky that Hutch wanted her there instead of him. Starsky’s visit to the hospital that morning had happily coincided with Hutch’s nap, so the two partners had had no chance to talk. This made Jeannie even more confident in her ability to arrange things the way she wanted them.

 _Men are so easy to manipulate,_  she thought as she put her makeup and tampons in Hutch’s bathroom. She had gotten Hutch situated in the bed wearing a pair of pajama bottoms. A large white bandage almost completely covered his chest. She had been given directions on how to clean the wound and apply some kind of goop to it, but she figured that could wait a while. The thought of it disgusted her, anyway; she’d never been good at getting her hands messy.

Putting on her sexiest short night gown, she turned out the lights and lay down beside Hutch. He winced.

“What’s the matter?” Jeannie asked.

“Jeannie, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can stand your weight on the bed. My chest is on fire.” Hutch’s face shone pale on the dark pillow.

“Are you calling me fat?” she asked, incredulous. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Hutch was supposed to tell her how beautiful she looked in her negligee, not that she _weighed down the bed_!

“No, no! I’m just really uncomfortable. Would you mind sleeping on the couch?”

Jeannie got up in a huff and went into the living room, throwing herself onto the sofa. _Fine! See if I change your bandages tonight!_ She thought, grabbing the afghan that was the color of baby shit, but she remembered Hutch’s grandmother or somebody had woven it with her bare hands so he wouldn’t get rid of it, and covered herself.

As she was drifting off to sleep, she remembered that she hadn’t given Hutch any dinner.  _Oh, well. He’s probably asleep now anyway. Besides, I hate to cook._

~~~

Jeannie managed to keep Starsky away for three days by telling him that Hutch was just too tired for company. It wasn’t exactly a lie, for all Hutch did was sleep. She told Starsky this in a hushed voice that seemed to convince him.

Hutch’s inertia and grogginess made Jeannie forget to give him meals regularly. He didn’t want to eat, anyway. She imagined sleep to be what he needed, anyway, if he was going to get better and get back to normal. She’d had made an attempt to change his bandages once, but it was so gross, she didn’t really finish. Hutch groaned so much while she did it, it made her hands shake, and she couldn’t wait to get the new bandage on. She much preferred the sponge baths she gave the rest of his body. One time he became aroused while she was washing him, but when she tried to take advantage of the moment, he protested, making her feel a little cheap. She’d left him alone the rest of the evening.

At the end of the third day, after she had turned Starsky away  _again_ , Jeannie watched a little TV and then turned it off. She was so bored. Shouldn’t Hutch be up and around by now? Here she was acting the part of nurse maid, and he hadn’t paid her a bit of attention. Getting up off the couch, she went into his room.

“Hutch, do you think you could try getting up? You could come in the living room with me.”

Hutch opened his eyes and looked her way. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Feeling really tired.”

She walked over to him and helped him to drink some water out of a straw. “You haven’t even touched the soup I made for you. Would you like me to feed it to you?”

“Not hungry,” Hutch murmured weakly.

Jeannie sighed impatiently. “Hutch, you’re not even trying! Look, if all you’re going to do is sleep, I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back later.” She grabbed her purse and left.

Hutch was glad she left. Her presence in his apartment was stifling. He felt awful, and she made him feel worse. Really, all he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn’t even certain how long he’d been home from the hospital. A day? Two? Three? Day and night blurred together into one long sleep. Vaguely he wondered about the antibiotics he was supposed to be taking. He only remembered taking them once. Had Jeannie given them to him and he just didn’t remember? He tried to lift his head off the pillow and look around the room, but his head felt like lead. A fire raged in his chest. He wished Starsky were there, but Hutch seemed to recall that Starsky was all wrapped up in some woman he was seeing.

Hutch closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

Oooooo

Starsky sauntered into Huggy’s, sat down at the bar, and ordered a beer.

“Glad to see you, my friend!” Huggy welcomed him as he drew the beer. “How’s Hutch doin’?”

“According to Jeannie, fine,” Starsky said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“Haven’t you seen him for yourself?”

“I’ve called, and then today I went over there, and she said he was asleep.”

Huggy made a face. “I don’t get you! Since when has some chick been able to keep you from checking on your partner? Involved or not, you two have always been thick as thieves.”

“Huggy, Hutch is involved with a woman. She’s the one he wants with him. Besides, I could see him asleep in his bed from the doorway. It’s not like she’s kidnapped him or something.”

“So? Just ‘cause she’s a woman, does that mean you have no rights? You can’t visit the man? Tell him you’re thinkin’ of him? Man, you are some kind of dope!”

Starsky riled. “Seems like all you do these days is insult me!”

Huggy shrugged. “Somebody needs to tell you what’s what.” He reached over and grabbed the phone. “Look, I’m gonna call and check on him. I’ve been meaning to, but usually I know you’re on the job, which means he’s in the best hands. Now I’m not so sure.”

Starsky rolled his eyes while Huggy dialed and sipped at his beer.

“It’s just ringing off the hook,” Huggy said a minute later. “How come that girl ain’t answerin’?”

“Maybe she’s asleep,” Starsky said, but his arms prickled like they did when he felt something was wrong where Hutch was concerned. He stood up. “I’m goin’ over there.”

“I’m goin’ with you,” Huggy announced, hanging up the phone and calling Cheryl over to watch the bar.

When they pulled up in front of Hutch’s apartment, Starsky saw Hutch’s car, but not Jeannie’s.

“Her car’s not here. You think they went somewhere? Maybe Hutch is up and around.”

“No way. He’s probably up and around some, but he’s gotta still be sore as hell,” Huggy wagered. “And it’s too late to be goin’ to a doctor’s appointment. Maybe she just went for some groceries, and he’s sleeping.”

“That must be it,” Starsky said, cutting the engine. He and Huggy climbed the stairs to Hutch’s door and knocked.

Hutch had given up the dubious practice of leaving a key above the door, but Starsky had his own. When there was no answer, he unlocked the door.

“Hutch?” he called into the apartment. “It’s me an’ Huggy. We just wanted to check on you.” The light on the table was on, but the living room was empty.

Starsky and Huggy entered the room and closed the door. Starsky moved toward the bedroom and found his partner in bed asleep. “I don’t want to wake him,” he said to Huggy. “Maybe we should go. She probably went for groceries, like you said. He seems to be sleepin’ peacefully.”

They turned to go. At that moment, Hutch made a noise that sounded like a gurgling gasp that stopped his friends in their tracks. Hutch jerked, and his face turned toward the light from the doorway, and Starsky saw with a pang how drawn Hutch looked.

“He’s waking up,” Huggy said, and Starsky moved toward the bed again.

“Hey, partner,” he said softly. “You awake?”

Hutch jerked again.

“Why’s he jerkin’ like that?” Huggy asked, coming to stand next to Starsky. He noted the water and soup on the table. The soup didn’t look like it’d been touched, and a layer of congealed fat had formed over the top of it. He pointed it out to Starsky.

Hutch moaned. Alarmed, Starsky put his hand on Hutch’s where it lay on the bed and flinched. “He’s burnin’ up!” He felt his partner’s forehead. “Shit, Huggy, he’s on fire!” Hurrying into the bathroom, Starsky came back with a cold, wet washcloth. Folding it, he lay it on Hutch’s forehead. Hutch moaned again.

“That you, Starsk?” he asked hoarsely, opening his eyes a little.

“Yeah, it’s me. And Hug. Here, buddy, let me give you some water.” He put a hand behind Hutch’s head, disturbed at how hot and dry he felt, and that his eyes appeared sunken in his drawn face. Hutch took a couple of sips of the lukewarm liquid and sank back onto the pillow, exhausted. His breathing accelerated noticeably.

“You have a good time?” Hutch asked, panting shallowly.

“Whaddya mean, buddy?” Starsky asked, sitting carefully on the side of the bed while Huggy hovered nearby. “Maybe we should take him to the hospital, Hug…”

“On your date…” Hutch whispered. Starsky looked up at Huggy, who shrugged.

“Sure, buddy, I had a good time, I guess,” Starsky said, because Hutch seemed to expect an answer, and he just wanted him calm. His eyes fell on Hutch’s bandage. “I expected you to be a lot better now, pal,” he said, thinking that the dressing didn’t look very good. It appeared damp and the tape was loose. Lifting the corner, he pulled it up and stared open-mouthed at what he uncovered.

Huggy looked over his shoulder. When he got a look at the long red wound leaking yellowish green puss with streaks of red spreading outward like tributaries from a river, he gasped audibly.

“Man, that looks awful!” Huggy whispered. “He’s got an infection for sure.”

Huggy turned on the bedside lamp, picked up the phone, and called for an ambulance.

Starsky’s hand trembled as it lowered the bandage. “Where’s Jeannie?” he asked Hutch, taking the cold cloth and turning it over on his forehead, the side that had been in contact with Hutch’s skin hot to the touch.

Hutch breathed raggedly. “Jeannie?” he coughed, wincing. He seemed to be trying to remember. “She—I think she left.”

“Where’d she go?” Starsky’s voice was icy. Hadn’t she been taking care of him at all?

“I don’t…know,” Hutch tried to remember. “I think--She said she w-was bored and going…out.” He coughed spasmodically, every jar to his body hurting him.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Starsky seethed, rage welling within him like a tidal wave. Taking deep calming breaths, he rose and went to rewet the washcloth. Gently, he patted down Hutch’s burning face and neck. On the corner table Starsky could see what appeared to be an almost full package of bandages, along with the barely touched tube of ointment.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Hutch,” Starsky said, leaning close to his partner’s face. There were two bright red spots on the pale cheeks. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital.”

Hutch grimaced. “I don’t wanna go back there.” His tremors were turning into alarming shivers that encompassed his entire frame. His teeth began to chatter. Starsky gripped Hutch’s hands, murmuring soothing words.

Huggy hung up the phone, on which he’d been giving information to the ambulance service. “They’re on their way,” he told Starsky. He looked around before disappearing into the bathroom, returning after a moment with a medicine bottle.

“They’re gonna want to know what he’s taking. This looks like his antibiotic.” Opening it, he shook the pills out into his hand. “It says on the bottle he’s supposed to take these three times a day, and there’s only two missin’!”

Starsky saw red. He was so engraged, his entire body shook with it. When he got a hold of that blonde bitch…

Hutch clutched at Starsky’s sleeve. “I don’t wanna go back to the h-hospital, Starsk.” Chills ran through Hutch’s weakened body like waves.

“Hutch,” Starsky softened his voice, “Jeannie hasn’t been taking care of you. Your wound is infected---bad. You have a fever. I’ve got to get you to the hospital.” He reached down and cradled Hutch’s face in his hand. Hutch burrowed into his palm, making Starsky’s heart clench with love. How could he have left him? Always, they had taken care of each other in times like these. Why had he let Jeannie convince him otherwise? Guilt overwhelmed Starsky like a suffocating shadow.

“I’ll go out front and watch for the ambulance,” Huggy offered. Starsky nodded, barely noticing his exit. With his free hand, he removed the blanket from Hutch’s legs, wondering if Jeannie had even helped him to get to the bathroom. She must have done, because Hutch was dry. Hutch began to shake harder, and Starsky covered him back up. “Easy, pal, they’re on their way.”

“Will you stay with me?” Hutch asked, his face still nudging Starsky’s hand.

“’Course I will,” he told him soothingly. The weak mewling of his normally strong partner drove a dagger through Starsky’s already aching heart.

“I-I mean, j-just for a while. Then you can g-get to your girl.” Hutch’s chills were shaking the mattress with their intensity. Starsky wanted to help Hutch, but all he could think to do was talk to his partner soothingly and keep him calm.

“My girl? Hutch, shhh…you have a fever. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Hutch winced with pain. “I don’t feel so good, Starsk.”

“I know, buddy. We’re gonna fix you up, though.”

Hutch plucked agitatedly at the covers and looked around. “When did you get here?”

“Just a little while ago. You were here alone.”

“J-Jeannie said you’ve been busy with a g-girl. You gonna marry her, Starsk?”

Starsky screwed up his face, trying to figure out if Hutch was talking out of his head with fever, or if he really knew what he was saying.

“Hutch, I don’t have a girl. Nobody’s in my life.”  _Except you._

Hutch moved his head to look up at Starsky where he leaned over Hutch on the bed. Hutch’s eyes appeared unfocused, just like when he’d been wounded, and it scared Starsky so that his gut clenched sickeningly in reaction.

“You said you wanted kids…” Hutch reminded him. He had said that, Starsky knew, when he was telling Hutch what he wanted to hear. Or thought he was. Now he was starting to question everything that Jeannie had said to him.

Starsky smoothed the hair off Hutch’s hot, dry forehead. Jesus, he was burning up! And he wasn’t sweating a drop. “Shhh…buddy, it’s okay. Yeah, I said that. I said a lot of stuff. Don’t think about that now.”

Hutch closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of Starsky’s hand in his hair. “Wanna know if she’s the one, that’s all.” He swallowed with difficulty.

“No, baby, there’s nobody but you,” Starsky felt a lump lodge in his throat.

“No, not me…” Hutch whispered before falling silent. Sirens sounded faintly in the distance.

Starsky put his hand over Hutch’s heart, feeling the rapid beats.

Too rapid, he knew. So many emotions fought for dominion over him…Fear, Love, Anger, Guilt. He didn’t know what to do with it all. Starsky watched Hutch’s face, etched with pain. He ran the backs of his fingers over Hutch’s forehead, trying to ease the lines there.

Finally, the clanking of the stretcher sounded on the stairs, and Starsky moved away from the bed. When the paramedics entered the room, he told them about Hutch’s condition, and once they had him on the stretcher and downstairs, Starsky again climbed into the ambulance. Before the doors closed, he asked Huggy to stay at Hutch’s for a while to see if Jeannie came back.

“She’d better not show up at the hospital,” Starsky warned. “God help her if she does.”

During the hellish ride through the dark streets, shifting lanes with sirens blaring, Hutch slipped in and out of consciousness, becoming increasingly agitated each time he awoke.

“Starsk?” he called out, and Starsky reached for his hand. “Dobey wants those reports,” he told him plaintively, then let out a groan so full of agony that Starsky’s heart ached.

“It’s okay, Hutch. We got ‘em in,” he soothed, his voice tight with emotion.

Hutch nodded, swallowed, and closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, he began tossing and turning his head, grumbling, “Why won’t anyone answer?” He frowned. “Sonny thinks he’s a fuckin’ colonel. Nobody’s gonna find me way out here.”

Starsky rubbed his thumb along the clammy hand he held in his own, distressed that Hutch was reliving those terrible days of hopelessness in the ravine. “I found ya, buddy. I’ll always find ya. You’re safe now.”

For several long moments there were only the sounds of the blaring siren outside and the whoosh of cars passing. Suddenly, Hutch let out a yell as though in terror and began thrashing around, startling Starsky so that he jumped, hitting his head on the roof of the ambulance.

“Keep him calm if you can,” the paramedic directed Starsky brusquely, moving aside a little to give him room while trying to keep Hutch strapped down. “We’re almost there.”

“Come on, buddy,” Starsky soothed, scooting forward as close as he could get and smoothing the hair out of his partner’s fever-crazed eyes as Hutch’s head tossed on the flat pillow. “Shhh…it’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.” His touch alone seemed to quiet Hutch, and he stopped crying out. His breathing slowed and evened, and he slowly subsided into intermittent sobs and shivers. Starsky leaned forward and whispered nonsensical comfort noises in his ear, rubbing his nose against Hutch’s hair, not giving a damn what the paramedic might think.

OOooOO

This time Starsky didn’t leave Hutch’s side. He flashed his badge and followed the stretcher into the examining room, watching as his wounds were cleaned properly and antibiotics and fluids were administered intravenously. Then he planted himself at his bedside and refused to move.

When Huggy got there a couple of hours later, Starsky asked if Jeannie had shown up.

“Yeah, just a while ago. I read her the riot act.”

“Not like I’m gonna,” Starsky vowed, turning back to Hutch. He watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, his breathing regulated and the tremors he’d experienced now sporadic, and promised himself that Jeannie wouldn’t get within twelve feet of Hutch ever again. “You might wanna be with me when it happens, Huggy. I’m so angry, I can’t see straight. I’m afraid of what I might do.”

“I hear ya,” Huggy replied. “I told her she’d be crazy to come here.”

“Where’d she been?” Starsky asked.

“She wouldn’t say, but she didn’t have groceries with her. I think she’d been drinkin’, tho. I smelled it on her. I also called Dobey, by the way. He knows you’re here, and said to take tomorrow off.”

Starsky nodded. “Thanks. You were right, Hug. I was blind.”

“Well, why don’t you save that for later, when I can bask in it a little? Right now, all I can think about is Blondie. What did his doctor say?”

“Septic shock," Starsky's words came out as a hoarse rasp. "We’re lucky that his organs hadn’t started shutting down yet.” A shiver ran through him at the thought of how close he’d come to losing Hutch.

“That’s heavy. I can’t believe she let him get like that! Isn’t she supposed to care about him?”

“She only cares about herself,” Starsky said vehemently. “The best thing she ever did for him was to leave him, and she couldn’t even follow through with that.” Starsky shook his head.

“And there I was, staying away like a martyr while he was suffering. I don’t know if she sat there and filed her nails while he lay in bed dyin’…” He grit his teeth. “Doctor said he was dehydrated!” Starsky shook his head in disbelief, his fingers clenching and unclenching on his lap. “She wasn’t even giving him water regularly!”

Huggy put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, his face mirroring the anger and frustration he felt. “Let it go for now, Starsk,” he advised. “He needs you. You already admitted I know what I’m talkin’ about, so listen to me for once in your life.”

Starsky managed a wan smile. “You’re gonna get the big head about this, aren’t you, Hug.”

“You better believe it! And I’ll milk it for all it’s worth, too. But for now, I’m headin’ home. I’ll come by in the morning and check on you and Hutch…since I imagine you won’t be leaving.”

“That’s right,” Starsky muttered. “Never again.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Hutch opened his eyes and focused on the figure slumped beside him in the chair.

“Starsky?” He croaked, but he could barely say the word. He tried to clear his throat, but he was too weak to even do that much. He saw the IV’s in his arms, felt the pain in his chest. He was so glad that Starsky was there. Starsky did care about him; Jeannie was wrong. Hutch tried to move and get comfortable, but it hurt like hell. He thought if he could just scoot down a little, it would ease his back, but when he tried it, a searing pain shot through his chest and he moaned audibly.

Starsky’s eyes snapped open, and he leaned forward. “Hutch? What’s wrong?”

Hutch looked at him and tried to convey what he wanted. “…hurts…move..”

“Want me to lower the bed a little?” Starsky asked, and Hutch nodded gratefully. Starsky reached for the lever and pushed it, bringing Hutch’s upper half down a few inches. “Better?” Hutch gave a wan smile, and Starsky sat back down.

Hutch wanted to ask his partner what he was doing there, but he just couldn’t muster up enough strength to talk. Instead, he watched him intently.

“What’s goin’ through that brain of yours, Baby Blue?” Starsky asked softly, stroking his arm with a finger.

Hutch tried to form a word, but failed miserably. “Shhh,” Starsky said. “You know I can read your mind, anyway,” he teased, reaching over with his finger and stroking Hutch’s nose. “Go back to sleep, partner. You need your rest.”

Hutch frowned, and Starsky added, “I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

At those words, Hutch closed his eyes, confident in the promise.

Starsky fell asleep in the chair, and when he awakened, Hutch was still sleeping, his face turned toward him. Starsky noted that his skin looked less pinched and his eyes less sunken. He stood up and stretched, his back objecting violently to the hours spent folded up in the chair. Spotting a coffee machine in the hallway within sight of Hutch’s room, he quietly went out and dug through his pockets for some change.

As the Styrofoam cup dropped and began to fill, Starsky caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision. Turning, he was both amazed and enraged to see Jeannie about to enter Hutch’s room.

“Stop!” he barked. “Don’t you dare go in there!” He walked toward her.

“What do you mean? I have every right—“

“You have no rights, you uncaring bitch!” Starsky was putting everything he had into controlling his temper. The last thing he wanted was to be arrested for assault and dragged away from his partner’s side.

Jeannie flushed. “How dare you!” she exclaimed.

Starsky got within an inch of her face. “How dare I?” he growled. “How dare  _you_? How dare you say you were gonna take care of Hutch and then  _neglect_ him like that? How dare you leave him in that condition? How dare you show your sorry face here now?”

Jeannie tried to take a step back, but hit the wall. She straightened her spine and looked at Starsky haughtily. “Hutch and I are engaged!” Her words bit him before he remembered that she was a lying cunt who didn’t deserve a minute of his time.

“You’re a liar,” he growled. “Now get out of here.” He stared her down, daring her to make a move toward Hutch’s room. “Not only that, but get the hell out of town.”

“You can’t talk to me like this! You can’t order me out of town!”

Starsky got closer until they were nose to nose. “I can make your life miserable, you’d better believe it. You’ll wish you’d cut out when I told you to.”

After a moment, Jeannie blinked and turned her face away, slinking off to the side and striding down the hall. Starsky let out a breath and shrugged his shoulders back. Returning to the coffee machine, he picked up his cup and went back into Hutch’s room.

Hutch’s eyes were open, and he looked a question at Starsky.

“Just dealin’ with some trash,” Starsky answered him. “How you doin’ this morning? Better?”

A nurse entered the room wheeling a cart. “Good morning, Detective Hutchinson!” She put a blood pressure cuff on his arm and pumped it up. Hutch watched Starsky as he sat drinking his coffee.

“I think maybe we can take this IV out now, and perhaps bring you some breakfast,” the nurse said. “How does that sound?”

Hutch shrugged and then winced.

“You better eat, Hutch. They won’t let you outta here unless you do.”

The nurse nodded her agreement. She swiftly untaped and pulled out the IV needle, swabbing at Hutch’s hand and applying a Band-aid. “The antibiotic drip will have to stay in a while. Now let me take a look at your wound.” She nimbly pulled the tape away, revealing the angry slash. Starsky peered over her shoulder, noting that it looked much better than it had the night before. He sighed in relief. The nurse took her time cleaning and redressing it, and then left to order Hutch some breakfast.

“Lookin’ good, partner!” Starsky approved, smiling.

Hutch swallowed hard, and Starsky offered him some water.

“Was—was that Jeannie in the hall before?” Hutch asked, his voice an abrasive whisper.

“Yeah,” Starsky admitted, reseating himself next to the bed.

Hutch wasn’t sure how to form his question. “Where is she now?” he finally asked.

“I sent her away, Hutch. She left you there alone…she hadn’t even been takin’ care of ya like she’d promised she would. I don’t care if you get mad---I’m not lettin’ her near ya. And that’s final.” He sat back and stubbornly crossed his arms.

Hutch frowned. “What about your girl?”

Starsky shook his head. “You asked me that last night. I don’t have a girl.”

“You’ve been dating someone,” Hutch stated.

“No, I haven’t.”

“But---“

“I don’t know what she told you, Hutch, but it was a lie. I think she’s been lying to us both. She told me you didn’t want me with you. That you wanted her taking care of you. Is that the truth?”

Hutch started in surprise, then blanched with pain. “No!” he said emphatically. “She said you were too busy…”

Starsky gritted his teeth, once again thinking that he’d like to wring that girl’s neck.

He leaned in close to Hutch looking him in the eye. “For one thing, I’m never too busy for you. Hear me?”

Hutch nodded slowly.

“And for another thing, I didn’t even want to end our relationship…she told me you deserved a chance at a normal life, and I should do it for you.” He waited to see what effect these words would have on his partner, hoping upon hope that Jeannie had lied about it all.

“She told you that?” Hutch asked, anger replacing confusion. His face flushed and he struggled to sit up, gasping in pain.

“Now hold on a minute,” Starsky stood and gently pushed back on Hutch’s shoulders. “Ain’t no way you’re gettin’ up, so just lie back. I took care of her, don’t worry. Plus Huggy told her a thing or two last night. She won’t be comin’ around again, believe me.”

“I never said that, Starsky!” Hutch’s eyes pleaded with him to believe him. “I never wanted anyone but you! I told her that.”

Starsky smiled wryly. “Seems she pulled the wool over both our eyes.” He grasped Hutch’s fingers in his. “This is all so new to us. We just weren’t sure of each other, is all.”

“But we should’ve been, Starsky—“ Hutch rasped.

“That’s what love does to you, buddy. It scrambles your brains.” Starsky leaned down and looked into Hutch’s brilliant blue eyes. “And I do love you.” He kissed the parted lips gently.

“I love you, too,” Hutch sighed.

This time when Hutch was released from the hospital, Starsky went home with him. Starsky made sure the strong antibiotics were administered on time, and he paid careful attention to cleaning and bandaging the wound. That night, he cooked dinner for Hutch, fed him, and helped him to the bathroom. Then he brought a large chair over beside the bed to sleep on.

“You’re gonna kill your back,” Hutch observed as he watched Starsky undress in the dark room and curl up in the chair. “Come over here in the bed, Starsk.”

“No, I might bump you in the night. I’m fine. I could sleep on the couch, but I don’t wanna.”

After a few minutes, Hutch asked, “Starsk, before everything with Jeannie…you kept wanting to tell me something, and I never let you get it out. What was it?”

“What do you think I was going to say?” Starsky asked, curious.

“At first, I didn’t really think about it. But then when you broke things off, I thought maybe that’s what you’d been trying to tell me.”

Starsky’s chuckle resounded out of the darkness. “God, no. The opposite. I wanted to tell ya how much I love you and want to be with you. How much our new relationship means to me.”

A beat of silence.

“Come here.” It was a demand, and Starsky smiled, crawling out of the chair and gently making his way up on the bed next to his partner. He could barely make out the handsome planes of Hutch’s face in the dim light from the streetlamp outside.

Hutch reached up and cupped the back of Starsky’s neck, gently leading him toward him. He kissed his mouth gently, sweetly, then more thoroughly. When he pulled away, he stared into the dark blue eyes. “Promise me we won’t ever let a woman come between us again.”

“Never,” Starsky agreed. They kissed again a little more hungrily, and Starsky lay back on the bed, deciding maybe it would be okay to sleep there. Clasping hands, the two men fell into a peaceful slumber.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Starsky spent four days at Hutch’s, leaving only to pick up groceries and some of his clothes. They had time to talk, and Hutch filled Starsky in a little on their time apart. Starsky still cringed when he thought about Hutch taking sleeping pills and the consequences thereof. Now he was going back to work, and he hated leaving Hutch. It seemed to soon, although his partner was doing well.

Hutch had a doctor’s appointment the next day to check the wound, but Starsky thought it looked good.  _The way it should have days ago if it had been taken care of properly._

He still felt guilty about leaving Hutch in Jeannie’s care. His partner had chastised him for believing that he could possibly want anything other than what they had, but in the end he had to admit that, had the situation been reversed, he might have done the same thing. It was difficult to escape the belief that a traditional life might be better for the one they loved.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay today,” Starsky said as he picked up his keys and wallet from the hall table and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Yes, Starsky,” Hutch said a little impatiently, his eyes glued to his partner’s sexy rear end. “You know, you have stuffed that wallet into those tight jeans so many times, it’s left an impression on your pocket. One of these days it’s just going to pop out like a cut cookie.”

Starsky grinned. “These are my favorite jeans. I’ve had ‘em the longest---broken them in real good.” He walked over to Hutch and gave him a leisurely, hot kiss on the mouth. “You be good. Call me if you need me. Promise?”

“I promise,” Hutch said softly, his breath tickling Starsky’s lips. Starsky dove in for a deeper kiss before prying himself away and backing out of the apartment with a jaunty salute.

Hutch sighed, leaning his head back on the sofa. He was still very sore, but his mind was a lot clearer. He had little memory between the first and second time he was released from the hospital. The days spent in his apartment with Jeannie were just a shadow. When he thought about her, anger surged within him—not so much because of the poor care she had given him, but for the lies she’d told to come between him and his partner. Every moment of insecurity and sadness that she had caused Starsky was a red strike against her in Hutch’s book.

With some difficulty, he rose from the couch and went into the kitchen, cleaning up the breakfast dishes and wiping down the counters. It would be at least another week until he could go back to work, and he’d more than likely be assigned desk duty for a period after that. When he thought about allowing that punk to cut him, Hutch was filled with shame for having abused his medication. It had been very unprofessional, and just another reminder that he simply had to make adjustments in his life now that he and Starsky were lovers. He could not allow a riff between them to affect his job performance, just as he could not allow himself the luxury of daydreaming on the job.

Tired from just that little bit of housecleaning, Hutch walked stiffly to the bedroom and lay down, his thoughts slowing, surfacing here and there like the last few pops of corn in the pot until he drifted off to sleep.

A sound awoke him, Hutch was certain of that, but what the sound was, he didn’t know. The faint whirring of the refrigerator and the tick of the clock were the only noises he heard upon fully awakening for long, tense moments until a voice behind him jolted him so that he sat up, just before something soft and taut wrapped tightly around his throat. Hutch tried to grab a deep breath before the material cut so intensely into his windpipe that breathing became impossible.

“You have made a terrible mistake,” Jeannie’s voice whispered in his ear from behind him. “If I can’t have you, that _man_ isn’t going to!”

Hutch could feel her twisting what held him, pulling it taut, his breath effectively cut off. He struggled, normally more than a match for someone Jeannie’s size, but in his weakened state and without a source of air, he barely managed to move.

“Now he’s going to come home and find you dead, and he’ll know he didn’t beat me. I’ll be long gone by then.”

 _If only I could speak, I could talk her out of this,_ Hutch thought even as lights began to flash before his eyes. He tried to move backward, hoping for some slack in whatever was wrapped around his neck, but Jeannie was pulling ruthlessly on it, twisting it viciously, determined to choke out his last remaining trace of life. There was no time, no plan, no recourse. Hutch had never felt so helpless in his life.

As darkness slowly seeped in, taking over, he silently apologized to the man he loved more than any other, that he should have to find him this way, and that their happiness would be so short-lived. He knew that pain, grief, and anger would overpower Starsky, and Hutch’s final thoughts were threads of worry that his friend would be unable to cope. With a spasm that coursed through his entire body, Hutch sagged into the pillows and lay still.

Jeannie moved away anger and jealously still coursing through her body. She stood shaking, taking a last look at the man she loved. She saw the purplish hue to his face and blue tinge around the sensual mouth. Unwilling to leave his beautiful features marred in such a way, she untwisted the scarf, allowing some color to return before turning to leave.

With a thundering gasp, Hutch’s eyes opened and he jerked forward, clasping Jeannie around the wrist and wrenching her arm behind her back, slamming her down and holding her there with his body while she tried to squirm. It hurt his stitches, but Hutch staid firm. He hit the floor with his fist until someone from the restaurant downstairs responded to all the noise.

Hutch hung on with his last ounce of strength until help arrived and the police were summoned. Only then did he allow unconsciousness to take him.

oooOOOooo

Starsky ate a sandwich, feet propped on his desk, his mind faraway. The phone on his desk gave a jangling ring.

“Starsky,” he answered, around a bite of roast beef and rye.

“Starsky, this is Mildred.” The voice of the dispatcher was a bit harried, as usual.

“Yeah, Mildred,” he took a long drink from his Coke can.

“I thought you’d want to know that I just sent two cars and an ambulance out to Hutch’s place,” Mildred told him hurriedly. “Sorry, another call’s coming in.” She disconnected.

Starsky dropped his feet to the ground and sat clutching his Coke a full second before jumping up and heading out the door at a run, not answering the questions from his colleagues.

Racing toward Venice, siren screaming, Starsky gripped the wheel tightly and tried to imagine what could have possibly happened. Hutch was feeling good that morning, so why the ambulance? Why the police? He couldn’t make sense of it. He thought they were past all this pain.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to the Torino, as if that would make it go any faster.

When he came to a screeching halt in from of Venice Place, a crowd of afternoon diners stood outside while two police officers spoke with them. Starsky almost tripped getting out of the car in his haste to get to the ambulance.

Peering into the open back doors, almost afraid to look, he found his partner sitting up on the stretcher being examined by a paramedic. Relief so intense that Starsky doubled over with it flooded through him.  _He’s alive._ “God, Hutch, what happened?” he breathed, leaning against the door.

Hutch looked over at him, and it was then that he could see the odd flush to his face and the terrible mark across his neck. His expression turned immediately from relief to dismay. “Oh, my God…”

“Jeannie,” Hutch croaked and motioned with his hand. Starsky looked over his shoulder to one of the squad cars where the blond sat handcuffed in the back seat.

The paramedic turned to Starsky to explain. “He was choked from behind with a silk scarf. We want to take him in, but he won’t go.”

Starsky stiffened at his words, his body coiling, fists clenching. In one swift move, he swung around and headed for the police cruiser. Hutch was off the stretcher in a heartbeat, knocking the surprised paramedic to the side and leaping out after his partner.

“Starsky, no!” he tried to yell, but his words came out only as a harsh rasp. Grabbing at his partner’s arms, he swung him around to face him. Starsky’s face was a mask of rage. He tried to yank away, but Hutch held him fast.

“I’m gonna kill her, Hutch,” Starsky swore, breathing hard, face a ruddy color. “I’m gonna kill her! She’s not gonna get away with doing this to you!”

“No,---she’s---not…” Hutch choked out. “She’ll go—to prison. Starsk, don’t do it—don’t risk …us.”

Starsky cast a murderous glance toward the squad car, where Jeannie sat staring straight ahead. He made a move that way, rage overpowering him once more, and Hutch tightened his grip on his arms.

“Please, Starsky…” he pleaded, his voice painfully distorted.

He tried to maintain his grip on his partner, but his legs were starting to give out on him.

As if sensing Hutch’s inability to keep going, Starsky reigned in his anger with difficulty. “Aw, Hutch,” he put his arms out and supported his partner, leading him back to the ambulance. “Have they finished checking you out?”

“I’m okay,” Hutch said, and Starsky gave him a warning glance, causing Hutch to flush. He knew Starsky wasn’t going to buy that line.

“Hows about I drive you to the hospital and let ‘em look you over?”

Hutch shook his head angrily and opened his mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out easily.

“Come on,” Starsky demanded, brooking no argument, and helped Hutch to the Torino.

 

**2 months later**

 

“So,” Starsky began, pushing away from the table. “It’s your choice. The movies, mini golf, the beach, or a quiet afternoon at home.” He leaned back in his chair, a crooked smile playing across his lips as he watched his partner, now completely healed and healthy, consider his options.

“Well,” Hutch speculated, looking at the ceiling. “A movie would be good…” he leveled his gaze across the table at Starsky, who so obviously knew how devastatingly sexy he looked leaning back in the kitchen chair, jean shorts and opened shirt, ankle propped on knee and smirking like a devil.

Starsky raised a brow. “Really. Which one?”

“I don’t know what’s playing,” Hutch replied, looking steadily into his violet blue eyes.

“Would you like me to get the paper?” Starsky asked.

Hutch reached with nimble fingers and began unbuttoning his blue denim shirt. “Let me ask you something first,” he said, standing up as he undid the final button and shed the shirt. Starsky’s eyes followed him, a tiny fire catching in their depths as he watched lean muscles ripple beneath the honey-tanned skin.

“What do you…” Starsky had to stop and clear his throat before continuing, “What do you want to ask me?”

Hutch met his gaze again. “How bad does this scar look?” He indicated his chest where he’d been cut. “Too ugly for the beach?”

Starsky’s eyes roamed down Hutch’s lean, muscular chest. The scar was now only a thin white line. He knew his partner was not the least bit self-conscious about that scar, and, in fact, had acquired a tan already by being shirtless on the beach.

“You’re puttin’ me on,” Starsky accused, eyes narrowing.

“The beach is crowded today,” Hutch said, looking innocent.

Starsky reached out and ran a long finger in a line down between Hutch’s pectoral muscles. “You know you look magnificent,” he said hoarsely, as he reached the edge of Hutch’s shorts and then watched his finger make the journey back up, taking a detour at the strong neck to dart behind it, tangling in the silky hair at its base and pulling Hutch close. His left hand slid around and behind to cup the blond’s muscular ass and press him firmly against him.

Hutch let out a long breath, tilting his head to take a nip from his lover, just where his collar met his neck. His own fingers splayed and made the light trek from his partner’s waist up to where his white shirt parted revealing summer-dark skin amply sprinkled with lush, dark hair. Slipping beneath the fabric like serpents, they skimmed over muscles and simultaneously reached for the twin brown nipples, giving them both a tight pinch. Starsky sucked in his breath.

“So is it a quiet afternoon at home, then?” he asked throatily, tilting his head back to allow Hutch better access to the sensitive skin of his throat. Hutch’s tongue lapped it like a particularly delicious ice cream cone, long strokes of wetness from his collar bone to his ear, over and over until Starsky’s breathing accelerated, his heartbeat pounding under Hutch’s hand. Starsky’s own hands were now busy smoothing the skin of his partner’s broad back.

Hutch paused to nibble on Starsky’s left ear, his breath a gentle breeze on the damp skin there as he whispered, “I choose… the mini golf.”

Starsky jerked his chin down to look Hutch in the eyes. His partner had a tiny smirk of his own on his lips. “Nobody likes a cock tease, Hutchinson,” he snarled, before diving into his mouth tongue-first, pressing him closer to his body, their groins making incredible friction as they undulated together. Hutch’s hands came down and grasped Starsky’s ass, pulling him closer and lifting until he wrapped his legs around his waist. Hutch carried him to the back of the couch, easing him down to his feet as he continued kissing him, his tongue stroking the inside on his mouth, his fingers busy with the button and zipper of Starsky’s small denim shorts. Once rid of those, he swung his partner around and bent him over the couch, leaning over him, their bodies pressed firmly together as his hand moved down and gently coaxed the bandy legs open while his mouth worked on the tender flesh of his ear.

Starsky’s moans of pleasure became louder, and they made Hutch harder than he’d ever been before. Leaning back and scrambling in the drawer of the entry table, he found the small tube of Vaseline and squirted it onto himself with shaking hands before inserting a finger into Starsky, opening him up.

“Oh god, Hutch, do it now!” Starsky moaned from where his face was buried in the sofa cushions. Hutch needed no further entreaty and sank his cock deeply within his lover’s body with one gigantic thrust, driving in until his balls slapped against Starsky’s ass, then pulling out until only the tip remained buried in the small, puckered entrance. Then he did it again. And again. Out of his mind with desire, Starsky slammed back against the spearing organ, shifting and moving until they reached a rhythm together. Hutch reached around, pulling his partner up against his chest, lifting him off the floor with each powerful thrust, gently plucking at his sensitive nipples until Starsky threw his head back and howled his release, hand around his prick, splattering the couch. Hutch quickly tumbled after, cursing hoarsely, sweating and still rutting until every last ounce of his seed was drained within his lover’s hot, tight rectum.

“Holy shit!” Starsky breathed, his voice like sandpaper. “Let’s hope nobody sends the cops up here to investigate the screaming!” Hutch let go of his partner, gently disengaging their bodies. Fervently, he kissed the sweat-slick neck, burrowing his nose in the sweaty curls. “God, I love you, Starsk,” he breathed, almost on a sob.

Starsky turned around in his arms, encircling him in his warmth. “Well, babe, you gotta know I love you. There’s no other man I’d allow to throw me over the couch and fuck me senseless like that!”

Hutch chuckled, basking in the post-coital high. "I'd certainly hope not!" He pressed his forehead to Starsky’s, the smile still on his face. “Next time, you can return the favor,” he promised, kissing him gently and with all the love he had inside.

“It’s a deal,” Starsky agreed.

_finis_

_  
_Note: If you enjoyed this, you may enjoy "Nightmare," which is also h/c "The Fix" related.

Kudos appreciated if warranted. Comments are <3

 


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